


Out of the Fire

by persepolis130



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Brothels, Brotherly Bonding, Deviates From Canon, Drinking, Food Fight, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Prank Wars, Prostitution, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persepolis130/pseuds/persepolis130
Summary: After the building they were living in burned down, John and his brother Hilary were taken in by whores and grew up together on Hapenny Lane. Known on the streets as Rook for his swindling abilities, John has been skirting the Provost's wolves and using any means necessary to support Hilary's dream of entering the 'Versity. But everything changes one day when the whorehouse is visited by none other than th'Esar's infamous Dragon Corps.





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

When I got back from my so-called business venture, Hilary was hiding in the prop room. I found him there curled up on the old mattress and stained sheets we set up on the ground for our bed, with his nose stuck in a book. 

If it'd been any other evening, I wouldn't've thought nothing of it. My brother lived and breathed romans. But he always came out to greet me whenever I got home, and seeing as how I'd been gone for the better part of a month, I was expecting his scrawny arms around me as soon as the girls started squealing my name.

"Hey," I said, poking at his knee with my toe. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he told me, and still didn't look my way.

I plopped down on the mattress beside him and hooked a finger over top the book. He frowned up at me from behind a black eye.

"I didn't know how much longer you'd be," he muttered.

"Told you I didn't want you involved in none of that horseshit anymore," I said, feeling pretty angry. Maybe he knew books, but I knew _life_ , and he should fucking _listen_ to me once in a while.

"I was out of _ink_ ," he protested. "What would you have had me do?"

"All this'll be for nothing if you get yourself killed," I told him. "For a smart kid, you're pretty damn stupid sometimes."

"My composition was due yesterday," he insisted. "I was left with little recourse."

That one really got me, _left with little recourse_. He was always saying fancy shit like that I only half understood, and it left me feeling real proud. Everybody had a good laugh all them years ago when he told 'em he was gonna go to the 'Versity, but they sure wasn't laughing now. Pretty soon all that learning would have the Molly stamped right out of him, and he wouldn't belong here any more than I did walking the streets of upper Miranda. That was when my job would be done: when I got my brother the fuck out of this shithole. 

I ruffled my fingers though his hair, messy and dull brown like one of the mice that scurried around in the shadows of our makeshift bedroom, and kissed his forehead. I could never be angry with him long. I loved him too damn much. "You still in one piece?" I asked. 

"Sure enough," he answered. "And what about your foray into entrepreneurship? Are _you_ still in one piece?" 

"Sure enough," I said back, because that was what we always told each other when we didn't have nothing worth telling. I could make a pretty good guess at what he'd done to get his ink, and he could tell how my trip had went by how I hadn't piled no coin up for him to count on the broken chest we used for a table. 

It'd been a royal fuck-up of a job, this last one I took. The merchandise we got wasn't nowhere near the quality Tiny'd promised it was gonna be, and even _I_ had a hard time hawking it. After I got myself paid up and put a bit of food in my belly, I hardly had enough left to be going back with. There was supposed to be this other shipment coming in off the docks, stole good and clean right off the ship, so I stuck around to try and make a go of it. But then some bastard ratted us out to the Provost, and his wolves started sniffing around. I'd've knifed the rat good and clean if only I'd known who it was. But I didn't, so all I could do was hightail it the fuck out of there.

If it hadn't been for the girl I met on my way back-- sweet little thing, innocent as they come, who'd all but begged me to show her the ins and outs-- I'd be in a real bad mood about now. As it was, I felt mostly tired and disappointed I'd been gone so long with nothing to show for it. Wasn't no girl, no matter how nice her breasts, could make leaving my brother worthwhile.

Hilary wrapped his arms around me. "Missed you, John," he said. 

I nuzzled down into his hair, which smelled like Ilsa's perfumed soaps, and wrapped my arms around him tight. He was growing like a fucking weed and was always too skinny no matter how hard I worked keeping him fed. He'd never starve, not with the girls looking after him, but I still worried. Keeping him in decent clothes was the biggest challenge right now 'cause it seemed like I every damn time I stole him a new pair of pants, and he'd already outgrew 'em. A couple more years and he'd be set though, maybe not as tall as me, but a proper man. 

"Missed you too, kid," I told him. 

"I wish you wouldn't leave," he said, voice muffled by my chest. "It's better when you don't."

"Yeah," I sighed, and squeezed his shoulders. "I know."

I dozed beside him for a few hours while he read and recited things in other languages. The girls were starting to get dolled up for the night, and I could hear their titters from the rooms above us. Someone was singing, probably Hazel, and her voice drifted down, low and sweet. I've heard plenty of men say they'd give half a nut to live in a whorehouse, and some of 'em came so often, they might as well. But it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. 

Hilary and me'd lived in one most of our lives, ever since the place we were staying at after our parents left us burned down. A couple of girls down the way felt sorry for us, 'specially 'cause Hilary wasn't more than three or four, and real sad looking. We lived with 'em on Tuesday Street 'til that place burned down too, then we all moved here to Hapenny.

Most of the time it was pretty quiet, even in the heart of Molly. A few men would come 'round in the afternoon, but anyone that worked by any sort of semi-legitimate means was doing it during the daylight hours. At night things heated up, and that meant me on the lookout for any bad sorts, and recognizing one type of scream from another so as I could bust into the rooms and drag the mean ones back out onto the street. I was sort of like security, though Madam's left hook was near as good as mine, so they did okay without me. The girls here were real nice most of 'em, and a few real pretty to boot, but they mostly still thought of me as this little kid with dirty cheeks, and they were almost like family to me. 

Now I say _almost_ 'cause I didn't feel no loyalty to anyone but Hilary, who was of my own blood. And if any of the girls offered to spread her legs for me, I sure as bastion wouldn't turn it down on account of her being some sort of sister. Couldn't pay for it though, not with my brother to look after, so that left things at a bit of an impasse between us. Meant I had to go out and search for my own action too, and I sure couldn't bring no women home with me. It got the girls pretty steamed when I did, insulted their talents or some such. 

So the way it shook down, a whorehouse was about the worst place to live if you wanted to be fucking women regular-like. 

"Are you going to lie there all night?" Hilary finally asked.

I stretched myself out and yawned. "Maybe," I told him. "It ain't like I got anything better to do."

" _Isn't_ ," he corrected. "There are apples in my knapsack if you're hungry. Jacob gave them to me at school."

"I _isn't_ hungry," I told him, 'cause I knew my proper grammar just as good as he did. I was the one that taught him his fucking letters in the first place. He rolled his eyes and went back to his reading. We both knew sure as shit I wouldn't be eating none of his apples. 

Later that night, he was reciting some sort of poem in Arlemagne-- leastways, I thought it was Arlemagne-- when Ilsa came bustling in.

"Looking good, sweetheart," I told her, and whistled.

She smiled and did a little curtsy for me. Her dark hair was done up in curls, and she brought a waft of perfume into the room with her. She wasn't much more than a girl when I met her all them years ago, and real illegal anyplace but Molly. She'd grown up real sweet though, not hard and cold like some of 'em got. She was the perfect age now, clever 'cause she'd done some living, and slender so as nothing was starting to droop yet. A few men had came to ask for her special, so she pulled in a good amount of coin, and she sometimes had Hilary run errands for her for a few spare hapennies. Didn't mind me leering at her breasts either, and she even let me touch on 'em a little when she got tipsy, and that was something I liked in a woman. 

"Good to have you back, John," she told me. "Mind you keep the baby back here for the night, okay? Madam's closed the doors, and you know how that means trouble."

"I am not a baby!" Hilary insisted, looking about ready to throw his book at her. Thing was about as big as he was, and it wouldn't've felt none too good to get hit by, if he could throw it that far.

"'Course you ain't, dear," she said, and curtsied again. "Just wanted to warn you."

"Whoa, whoa," I said as she turned to leave. "Not so fast! Why the fuck are the doors closed? Night's barely even started."

On nights they weren't doing any sort of performing, the custom was to lock the doors when all the girls were busy and the front room was full. Too much waiting led to too much drinking led to belligerent customers, and a whore wasn't no good with a roughed-up face. I could hear laughter from up front, but more than half of it was the girls', and Gin sure wasn't going full force on the piano yet. Wasn't no reason _I_ could see to be closing things up.

Ilsa shot Hilary a quick look like he better take his attention elsewhere, and he scowled and crossed his arms when I didn't stick up for him. We all knew the kind of trouble the kid could get himself into, and I didn't care how much it pissed him off. Ilsa leaned over to whisper in my ear, and I got a good look at her cleavage before I heard her say, "Dragon Corps."

I thought I didn't hear her right at first because what the fuck was the Dragon Corps doing on Hapenny Lane? But of course I knew what they were doing, if it was really them. There was a lot of rumors spreading around about those men, pilots of giant metal dragons powered by magic, th'Esar's secret weapon that was supposed to win this bastion damned war for us. Some said they were barely human, those men, but it seemed to me like that couldn't be true, what with the number of women they went through. 

I nodded and gave Ilsa's ass a squeeze, and hardly noticed when she gave me a good-natured smack upside the head and left. I was too deep in thought. The airmen had a lot of money to throw around, and I figured that's why Madam decided to shut the doors against all them sorry fucks that _didn't_. It was a good gamble they'd leave if they got annoyed, and take their coin with 'em. 

There had to be some way I could use this to my advantage.

"What's going on?" Hilary asked.

"None of your damn business. You stay here," I told him, and went to investigate. 

I didn't have any sort of a plan yet-- I was crap at plans-- but I had more than one reason for wanting to find out for myself what was up. The Dragon Corps was famous, and if this really was the aces themselves, I wanted to catch a peek. But more than that, I wanted to know about the newest dragon, the one that didn't have a rider yet. The one they called Havemercy.

I hadn't told a soul about it, not even Hilary, but I'd caught me a glimpse of that dragon a couple months back. I'd kept it to myself mostly 'cause I didn't feel like explaining just what I was doing on my knees in an alley when I saw her fly over. Hilary knew I did it-- he'd saw me at it more than a few times. I figured I was providing a useful service to all them lonesome Cindies out there, and earning some quick coin without having to risk my hide, so it wasn't any sort of big deal to me. I didn't even have to get out my knives. As long as Madam didn't catch me at it and start thinking I was stealing business, I was in the clear.

But I wasn't having my brother get the idea in his head it was okay for him to do it too. He was better than that.

There was more to it than just that, though. There was just something about her-- the dragon, I mean, 'cause people talked about 'em like they were women-- that had me _itching_ to get another look. The glint of the sun off her belly, and the look of those wings spread wide across the sky, was burned into my memory. I figured I had about as much chance of coming face to face with a dragon as I did of fucking th'Esarina in front of a full session of the Basquiat, but all that could change if I played my cards right tonight. _If_ , of course, it really was the Dragon Corps in our parlor. 

Seeing as how the girls needed different ways of getting on stage when they put on their little dance numbers, there was a few ways to get into the room. I didn't want to be seen just yet, so I sneaked myself through the back and upstairs so as I could peek down on the proceedings. The piano and all was set up at the front so passers-by could get a glimpse of the action, but not so much as they didn't want to pay to see more. 

Lounging in our parlor with a half dozen whores around them was the Dragon Corps.

There was only five of them, not the full Corps, but I knew in an instant who they were. Wasn't anybody else they _could_ be, they were just that striking. One of 'em, slender and pale as a ghost, was sitting next to Gin, sounding something out on the piano. Another, built more solid-like but with more fucking _freckles_ than any man should own up to, was pouring our best wine into glasses at the table. He was saying something to a shorter man with curly black hair who wasn't paying much attention 'cause he was working on snaking a hand up Nanette's skirts. On the couches beside them sat two big motherfuckers, with a girl on each knee. One of 'em was dark and clever-looking, the other friendly and dim.

I almost missed the sixth man. Guess that was what he wanted, all holed up in the corner behind the standing curtain like that. Madam had put an old fainting couch back there for if one of the girls needed a rest during the dancing, or if things got too heated to get a man all the way upstairs, and you could barely see it was there from the floor. The body on it looked about my size, maybe a bit narrower at the shoulder and with dark hair, but I couldn't see nothing else. 

Hilary'd told me once that when lions stalk their prey, they try to get one beast singled out, separate-like from the rest of the herd. All on its own, the unlucky creature didn't stand much chance of escaping. Just like one of them lions, I knew straight off which one of the men down below was mine. And just like a lion, I already knew what to do with him once I had him caught.

Back in the bath, or what passed for a bath in this place, I poured some water into the basin and splashed it on my face. I ran my hands through my hair and my tongue across the front of my teeth to make sure they felt clean, and then checked out my reflection in the little round mirror above. 

The one thing I had on Hilary was looks. He kept himself all proper and clean and everything, but while he was pretty much perfection in _my_ eyes, he'd never be more than average in everyone else's. That was fine though. You didn't need a pretty face to impress nobody up at the 'Versity. Me on the other hand, petty grifter I was, _I_ couldn't've done without. 

A lot of women could be real pretty all done up, but you take away all the baubles and paint, and they look like the wrong end of a dog. That ain't me. I was a born charmer, a natural, and didn't even have to work at it.

My hair was blond and just long enough to tuck behind my ears, and I had light blue eyes that changed with my mood. Ilsa said they were like the sky on a Spring day when I was happy, but when I got pissed off, they turned cold like ice. Hilary said they had pointed edges and could cut like glass when I got sharp with him, whatever that was supposed to mean. Living in Molly, a body couldn't help but get a bit dinged up, and you could see it on my face. But neither the broken nose or the cut under my eye from back when I was hot-headed enough to get into knife fights I might not win did anything to take away from the admiring glances I got on the streets.

"Without such imperfections, you'd be almost impossible to look at," my brother'd told me once. "You're simply _too_ attractive."

If you asked me, being too attractive was a little like being too rich, too happy, or too full of good food, or having too many women clamoring to spread their legs for you. It just wasn't _possible_. But what did I know?

I had something else about my looks, too-- something that made people want to talk to me, trust me, buy whatever shit I was selling whether they really wanted it or not. Hilary called it "charisma" but I sure never figured out what the fuck _that_ meant. I just knew it made my life a whole damn lot easier, and it was what was gonna get me through tonight in one piece, if not earn me a tidbit or two on that dragon from the airman in the corner.

You see, there was only two reasons a man could be miserable sitting in the parlor of a whorehouse with plenty of money in his pocket and liquor flowing. The first was because there wasn't no woman available, and he had a real bad itch for one. The second was because the women available wasn't to his liking. We had a dozen whores here and nobody up in the rooms yet, so it couldn't be the first. And the only way a man could look at a dozen whores and not see one that suited him was because he had the pickiest prick in the world, or because he was queer as a three-chevronet. 

And I was about to find out which this bastard was.

"Hey, Hilary," I said, once I got back to the prop room. "You still got any of them apples left?"

"Mm," he answered, and squinted down at his roman like it was trying to pull something tricky on him. The light from the lamp was pretty dim, so maybe it was. When I started rummaging through his knapsack, he finally realized what I'd asked and threw me a concerned look. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Not yet," I told him, and rubbed a piece of fruit on my pants leg. 

"You'd better take a few, then," he advised. 

"Just one," I told him, and made sure it looked nice and shiny before I put it in my pocket.

" _Please_ don't get arrested again, John," he urged.

"You mind your own self," I said, pointing at his black eye. Looking at it again made me feel a little sick. "I got the situation under control."

He sighed and went back to his reading.

I cut around and through the kitchen. There was a door not far from where the lone airman was sitting, and I slipped through it real quiet-like. The other men were well occupied with drinking and singing some song about a busty barmaid, so they didn't see me. My prey was staring down at the white leather gloves on his hands.

"Not enjoying yourself?" I asked.

He looked up like he wasn't expecting anyone to've noticed him and was real taken aback he was wrong. 

"I'd recommend Ilsa," I told him. "The one with the curls that just came down. She's a real sweet girl and won't show you a bad time."

"I thank you for the kind advice," he told me, and looked around the screen at the rest of the Dragon Corps with this expression on his face like he'd rather drown in a pool of his own vomit than join 'em. He was a real stuck-up son-of-a, this one. Thought he was too good for our fine establishment, that was for damn sure.

What was more, I figured maybe he was right. He had a country sort of look about him, with a broad face, but without the stupid grin and sunburn, or the ugly twang to his voice. His skin was pale as a woman's thighs, and all his features were delicate but not feminine. I figured either he was some kind of nobility, or his mother'd fucked someone who was. He had hair like the nobility too, with a wave to it but not a single strand out of place, and clever, hard eyes. I was in some deep shit dealing with this one, but there wasn't nothing to do but move on. I'd already stepped in it anyway.

"Anything _I_ can do for you?" I asked him. 

The look he gave me could've melted steel.

I shook my head and raised my hands in mock apology. "Hey, you got the wrong idea! It ain't nothing like that. I live here, help the girls out with things that need a man for looking after. I ain't after your money."

"Is that so?" he said, and didn't sound like he believed me.

I shrugged, leaning against the side of the couch, all relaxed and casual-like. "You just looked lonely sitting here all alone, that's all."

"Lonely and alone are not necessarily synonymous," he informed me.

"Yeah, sure," I answered, thinking he talked a lot like my brother. Probably educated to the hilt, too. "Guess your buddies dragged you here, huh? 'Cause you don't look like you belong in a place like this, if you don't mind me saying."

He sighed, and it looked like I'd hit the nail on the head with that one. "My companions seem to believe that there is no more to life than women and drink. Why I let them talk me into these things, I fail to understand," he ground out, face gone sour. 

"Met a lot like that myself over the years, but I ain't one of 'em. Madam would have my head if she heard me say this, but I think it's a damn waste," I confided. "Never spent a hapenny on a woman in my life, and I never will." I didn't mention as how I got my action for free, and plenty of it, but that wasn't hardly the point.

"Over the years," the man repeated. "Just how old are you? You speak as though an old man, yet you appear little more than a boy."

I smiled and sat myself down beside him. He looked shocked at first but didn't move, and I guessed it was because of some misplaced idea of manners. Real rude leaving in the middle of a conversation and all. "I'm old enough," I said. "I know how the world works. I know how to get what I want when I want it."

"Ah," the airman said. "And what exactly is it that you want?"

I grinned from ear to ear and pulled the apple out of my pocket. I tossed it into the air and caught it. "I know what you are," I told him. "All of you."

"How terribly clever," he said.

I laughed and took out one of my knives, slow and deliberate so as he could be sure I wasn't trying to pull nothing funny. "Not really. I've got eyes, ain't I? Though if you ask me," I added, and took a slice off the apple, "you fit the part better than the rest."

"Is that so?" he asked, and stared at the slice of apple I was offering him.

"Dragon Corps's supposed to be better than the rest, not worse," I told him. "It don't fill me full of confidence watching the men that are tasked with saving all our asses drinking themselves stupid and drooling over Hazel's tits. You eating this, or not?"

"No. Thank you," he said.

I took a bite. "No offense, you all do a damn good job and everyone knows, 'specially the fucking Ke-Han, and Hazel's got a pretty fine set on her. But it ain't so inspiring to watch, if you catch my meaning. Guess I just like thinking my heroes are something more than that." 

He didn't say nothing, but I could tell he agreed, and something other than disgust worked its way onto his face. Wasn't a man I'd met who didn't like being complimented, even if it _was_ only coming from some Mollyrat that lived with whores. We kept on talking, and he told me as how it was a lost bet against someone named Ghislain that'd landed him here against his will. Something about a rigged game of darts. I nodded and agreed with everything he said, munching on the apple like it was more than a prop to make it all look natural. I was getting him on my side sure as rain, finding out what made him tick, and soon enough he started losing that stiff properness I'd found him with. He even had me snag him a bottle of wine, and offered me some.

I shook my head as I poured him a glass. "Nah, I ain't much for alcohol. Leastways, not when there's decent conversation to be had."

He took to the lie like it was truth and sipped on the wine with his white-gloved fingers wrapped around the stem. I figured he was loosened up pretty good, so it didn't take too much more small talk before I got to the heart of the matter, the real reason I was here: "So, you still having troubles with the new dragon?"

He paused a second before answering, tipping the wine around in his glass. "Do you not think you would have heard, were it otherwise?"

I shrugged. "Half of what you hear around here's only half true, the other half ain't hardly true at all. You can't trust the gossip."

"Hm," he said, and looked real thoughtful-like down at his wine.

"I saw her once, you know, a couple months back," I told him, hoping to the bastion I hadn't brought it up too sudden. "She was flying out over Molly, must've been about noontime. Prettiest damn thing I ever saw."

"Do you think so?" he asked, and took another sip. "Most men find the dragons terrifying."

I snorted. "Most men are stupid as fuck. Pardon my language and all."

"I would very much like to disagree," he said, "though at this particular juncture, I find the prospect daunting at best. However, telling a civilian anything about the dragons is quite illegal, a fact which I'm sure you are aware."

"I'm not asking you to break no laws," I clarified. "I'm just asking what's up with that Havemercy and when she's gonna be flying over again so as I can catch a peek, that's all. I'm on the straight and fucking narrow with you, here."

He almost laughed at that-- the idea of anyone from Molly being on the straight and narrow was a pretty neat joke-- and smiled over at me. His teeth shined brilliant white. The wine must've been starting to work on him. "I'll tell you this only because it's fairly common knowledge: they may call her Havemercy, but she's got none that I've ever seen. She'll be a right terror once we get her over the Cobalts, but she'd sooner bite a man's head off than let him get close enough to ride her. She won't even tolerate most of them looking at her."

"Bet she tolerates _you_ ," I said.

He blinked at me and opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again and took another drink. I loved it when I was right. "Your flattery is quite… well, _flattering_ of course," he finally came up with, "but I really should say no more."

I nodded like I was going along with it. "Sounds like I got a while to wait, then. Bet th'Esar's pissed as all hell. Here, let me pour you some more."

"Not to fear, we'll find someone eventually," he assured, holding out his glass for me to fill. "Sooner would most assuredly be better than later, though. Personally, I'm of the opinion that the usual recruits won't do at all, but-- why am I telling you this? Did I not just say I wouldn't?"

I shrugged. "I ain't complaining."

He knocked back the full glass and shook his head like I'd said something funny. "Perhaps it's the alcohol, though it usually doesn't affect me so. Did you know that… well, of course you don't know, but… when they first see the dragons, some of the recruits actually _wet_ themselves. Can you imagine? I'd rather have my head bitten off than suffer such shame, wouldn't you?"

I had me a good laugh over that one. I could just picture a bunch of fancy bastards fed caviar off gold spoons pissing their own selves over something that made my heart leap for joy in my chest. And then I pictured 'em getting their heads bit off, and laughed harder still.

"You're right," the man told me when I'd fell into soft chuckles. "There's no reason to be afraid. It's the fear that disgusts them. They're looking for a partner-- an _equal_ \-- not a sniveling child who's terrified of the very sight of…" 

He trailed off, his eyes sort of glazed over, looking like he'd gone real far away right then. To a good place though, like where soldiers went when they talked about home, or old men when they reminisced about their first woman. I wondered if he was thinking about his dragon, remembering the first time he saw her, maybe. 

"Bet your girl's pretty as anything," I murmured, trying to imagine it.

That snapped him out of it, and he shot me a look that was almost guilty. I felt a little bad and wished I'd kept my big mouth shut. "Of course she is," he said, and had me refill his glass for him again.

I raised the bottle like a toast and clinked it against the edge of his glass. He nodded and drank, and I brought the cool glass to my lips and took a swig. There wasn't much left in it, but it was pretty damn good. Better than anything _I_ could afford, anyway.

I held the neck between my lips, thinking about dragons and how it would be to get one of _them_ girls to give me a good hard ride. Across the way, the piano was playing steady, and one of the other Dragon Corps men was laughing, and Hazel was squealing giggles like someone was tickling her pretty nice.

"The _essence_ of man is entirely separate from his _nature_!" one of the men started shouting over the noise. "Do you understand nothing? Why am I surrounded by people of such deplorable intelligence that-- Ivory, would you _please_ inform them that--"

"Shut _up_ , Raphael!" someone else yelled back. 

From up in the rooms, I could hear Ilsa screaming-- not one of them fake screams for when she wanted to get rid of the jackass she was with real quick, but a real one, high and almost desperate, that said the man doing her knew his stuff. I stared up at a water stain on the faded wallpaper and wondered how it would be to never hear any of this shit again in my life. If I had a dragon, I'd fly me and Hilary out of here and never look back, not for one second.

When I looked up, the airman was watching me. 

I slid the bottle out of my mouth and ran my tongue over the edge a little, like I was getting the last of the taste off it. My new friend didn't look away. In fact, he watched a little closer. I shot him a grin, and he shifted against the cushions.

So I had my answer as to why he didn't want nothing to do with any of our girls, then. And the rest of my plan was about to fall right into fucking place.

"So," I said, and took the empty wine glass out of his hand. "You want one, then?"

"One what?" he asked.

"I'll do you this one for free 'cause I like you," I told him, and put my hand on his knee. "And I like your dragon stories."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, looking sidelong at my hand.

"No," I said. "I'm pretty sure you do."

"If you honestly believe I have an interest in such things," he began.

"No one'll know," I assured him. "Your friends are all busy getting their share from the girls, and it ain't like _I'm_ gonna tell anyone. I don't even know your fucking name. And I _know_ you want it bad right now."

My hand started moving up his thigh, and he stared at it like he thought it might bite him. He could've stood up, easy as that, and walked away. Could've, but didn't.

He swallowed. "I--"

"Our little secret," I told him. "I promise."

He glanced over his shoulder and out across the parlor, but no one was paying one speck of attention to our little corner. I knew they wouldn't be. There was half-naked women out there. His eyes flicked back to my hand, creeping ever higher on his leg, and he nodded. "Just," he murmured, and swallowed again, "just quickly, alright?"

"Sure thing," I said, and slid off the couch to kneel down between his legs.

If he really believed he wasn't interested, he was out of his skull. The front of his pants was all pressed out like he'd been thinking about this for a good long while. Bet he'd been dreaming of getting my mouth on him ever since he first saw me. They usually did.

I tugged at his belt buckle and pulled open the buttons, and he sucked in his breath. When I looked up, his eyes were wide as fucking saucers, and I had to duck my head down so as he didn't see me trying not to laugh. If there was one time you didn't want to laugh at a body, it was when you'd just got a hand into his pants.

I got a feel for him through the cloth of his underclothes, first with my hand, then with my mouth. He smelled good, like soap or something but nicer, and I pressed my nose in to get a better sniff. Couldn't be too long at it though, not here and now, so I slid my hands around to his backside to pull him closer and went elsewhere with my mouth. There wasn't much I had to do to get him prepped-- he'd managed that all by his lonesome. 

I glanced up to make sure his eyes were still on me and then ran my lips up his length. The fabric felt rough against my skin as I mouthed at it, being pretty gentle 'til I found the tip. He was real hot there already, and when I fit my lips around it and tried the littlest bit of a suck, I could feel the cotton under my tongue getting wet.

" _Quicker than that!_ " he hissed.

It was pretty rude, I thought, seeing as how he wasn't even paying. From the feel of him, he was gonna go off in about a minute no matter _what_ I did, so there wasn't no need for discourtesy. And who the fuck was the fucking expert here, anyway?

Whatever. If _quicker_ was what he wanted, that was what he'd damn well get. 

I didn't bother with none of the tricks I usually did, just pulled him out, licked my lips, and slid down on him. He was pretty big, but not so long as I couldn't take him down my throat, and that's just what I did.

I gave him credit for not making too much noise. You could barely even hear him over the piano. I'd like as not be screaming my lungs out in his place, but then there wasn't no way I'd ever find myself in such a fine fucking predicament as this. I had more common sense.

Seemed like quick was how he liked it though. After I'd went down on him once, twice, three times, making good use of my tongue along the way, he tensed up. His fingers bit into my shoulder so hard it hurt.

" _Bastion_ ," he swore, and filled my mouth with bitter fluid.

I swallowed it down, licking my lips to get the last of it. Some of the girls went on about the taste, but I never much minded. I'd ate worse things in my life. And even if I _did_ mind, I'd've taught myself better, 'cause some men took it real personal-like if you tried spitting it out after. 

I was making to clean up the airman next, since it was only polite and I was just chock-full of fucking manners tonight, but he was already stuffing himself back in his pants like a schoolboy that'd got caught pissing on a statue of th'Esar. Twitchy bastard, this one. Wasn't comfortable in his own damn skin. Real repressed.

"There's more where that came from," I murmured, leaning so as I could say it in his ear. "You just bring me more on that dragon, any little stories you got, and it's all yours. Anything you want."

He gave me this look like what I'd said offended him something special, but I knew better. I had him all figured out. He wasn't no different from any other man, Dragon Corps or not.

I winked and left him with that, and grabbed the wine bottle and glass. We refilled the bottles with cheaper liquor for them idiots that had coin but no proper palate, so I set it beside the others on the shelf. As I was washing out the glass, the piano stopped for a minute, and someone called out, though I didn't catch what he said.

"Quite pleasantly sauced, thank you," I heard my airman reply, and laughter filled the parlor.

I rinsed out my mouth. 

Back in the back, Hilary'd fell asleep with his cheek pressed against his roman, and I pulled it out nice and slow to try not to wake him. He sniffed and rubbed at his cheek.

"Everything alright?" he mumbled.

"Fine and fucking dandy," I told him. "You wrinkled your page."

"Oh," he said, and snuggled down into the mattress. "Damn."

I threw a blanket over him, putting the end with the moth holes by his feet. It didn't feel right kissing him just now, so I laid myself down beside him and stroked my fingers through his hair. 

"Love you, kid," I said. But he was already asleep.

That night, I dreamed of that Havemercy dragon, all bright and beautiful, angry as the dickens, wings spread and breathing fire at anyone that came near her. She was chained up in the Cobalts, and the mountains rose up behind her like giant blue fangs. When she saw me, she huffed, and smoke belched out between her razor-sharp teeth, black and acrid like a burning building. 

Then my brother was beside me, laying his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, John, I'll ride her," he said. "I know how. I read all about it in my romans."

"No, I'd better do it," I told him. "You ain't strong enough. She'll bite your head clean off your body."

But Hilary never listened, always thought he knew better, and he was climbing up on her before I could stop him. Havemercy rose up with him on her back 'til she wasn't no more than a glint in the sky. I screamed my brother's name, but he was gone.

"You can ride me instead," said my airman. I turned around, and there he was behind me, leaning back on the old red fainting couch under a pine tree. In one hand he held out a bottle of blood-red Ke-Han wine, and with the other he was stroking his cock. It was hard and thick and near as pretty as that dragon.

When I woke up, I couldn't remember whether I'd took him up on his offer.

Some fucked-up dream, huh?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

It was almost a week before I saw the airman again, and when he came, I didn't realize at first who it was. I was scrubbing off the floor where some whoreson had sicked up the night before, cogitating over the shine of the sun off dragon scales, when Maribel told me I had a visitor.

"I'd've told him you wasn't here, but he don't look like no wolf," she told me, sucking on a sweet one of her johns had brought her. It wasn't even noon, and she had dark circles under her eyes like she'd just got up, or maybe hadn't slept yet. "Says he owes you money. Handsome bastard, talks real proper-like, a fucking gentleman if I ever seen one. He's up front, but I ain't let him in."

I thanked her and wiped my hands on my pants and went up to see who it was wanted to see me so bad he'd lie about it. Wasn't nobody owed me money for more than two minutes that didn't have one of my knives to his throat.

I about crapped myself when I saw the airman standing outside the front door. He nodded at me and tugged his collar straight. He looked way too nice to be wandering the Mollywastes, with his hair all perfect, gloves on his hands, and expensive boots on his feet. 

He cleared his throat. "About the other night," he began.

"Look, this ain't a good place to talk," I told him, staring at a pile of sodden garbage near his heel. It had rained last night, but instead of cleaning things up, now everything was just dirty and wet. "Go around back, under the stairs. I'll meet you there in a minute."

Now, there wasn't any one place in Molly was better to talk in than another. The poorest of Thremedon's three maidens had eyes and ears everywhere, and you couldn't hardly spit without somebody knowing where it landed. So that wasn't why I told him to meet me in the alley.

After the Dragon Corps left that night, I'd been having this sort of war with myself. See, part of me thought my airman would be back real quick, and the other part was sure unto death I'd seen the last of him. It made good sense he'd come see me again-- men like that didn't want it spread around how they liked it, and the more bodies that knew exactly which way your prick curved, 'rats or not, the more likely it was you'd be found out for the Cindy you were. Seemed like he liked me well enough, too. He'd be damn stupid not to.

But it made just as much sense he'd stay away. Money could buy silence, and anything else if you had enough to shell out, and I was betting the 'Fans had plenty of pretty young men that smelled like perfumed oils instead of unwashed clothes. 

I cursed a blue streak because not only did I stink, but I hadn't fucking shaved in _forever_. 

Wasn't nothing I could do about that now though, so I thanked the bastion I was blond and did the best I could to make myself presentable in about half a minute, and hightailed it out back. When I stepped out the door, he was staring up at the stairs like he was sure they was about to crash down on his head.

"Yeah, I don't trust 'em either," I told him.

"Wise of you," he said with a thin smile.

"So," I said, "more dragon stories?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, about that. I… well, I feel as though my conduct the other night was entirely unbecoming, and I wanted to offer my most sincere apologies. I would have come sooner, but this was the first chance I had with the schedule we've been running lately."

_That_ sure wasn't what I was expecting. "So you came all the fucking way back here to say you were sorry for being naughty in a whorehouse? 'Cause that ain't--"

"No," he interrupted. "No, I… what I mean to say is that I feel I took advantage of the situation, which was inexcusable for a number of reasons." 

I shook my head. "I ain't following."

He sighed and held out his hand. "Here. I should have paid you at the time, and I have no idea what the, ah, going rate would be, but I should hope this would cover it. And again, I am terribly sorry."

I stared at the coins in his hand-- and fuck me if they wasn't _silver_ \-- and wondered what in bastion's name I was supposed to do. Hilary's shoes were in pretty rough shape, and that much would get him some _real_ nice ones, and if I bought 'em a couple sizes too big, they'd last for…

"Told you I wasn't charging for that one," I said, instead of scooping up the coin like I damn well should've. 

"Yes, well," he told me, "for your company, then." 

"That wasn't the deal," I insisted. It got tense there for a minute, him holding out the coin, and me staring at it so as he could tell real easy I wanted it but wasn't about to take it. I shifted on my feet and leaned against the rickety wooden staircase. "So, what's up with that Havemercy?"

"You have no idea how much trouble I would be in if anyone found out I was speaking with you about her," he said, and put the coins into his pocket. "And this time, alcohol could be no excuse. I don't know what it is about you…"

"Yeah? So what?" I asked, feeling pretty angry with myself. There went the nicest pair of shoes my brother ever could've had. _Bastion_ , I was a fucking idiot.

The airman licked his lips and swallowed. "She… Havemercy… says that we shall never find her a suitable rider, and we might as not all go screw ourselves."

I gaped. "She _talks_?"

"Yes," he said. "They all do. Though some more than others."

"They all--" I said, my head going sort of crazy with the possibilities. They weren't some kind of metal _animals_ , they were like real live metal-- "Wait a minute," I said as his words caught up to me. "Wait. She said _what_?"

"She has a bit of an air about her," he admitted. "Some of them can be rather capricious due to the individual whims of the magicians who designed them, though we've never had one quite this particular before, or with such an aversion to authority. She called the Chief Sergeant a-- well, it's not a word which I feel particularly comfortable repeating. She must have picked it up from one of the handlers."

"Sounds like my kind of girl," I told him, grinning pretty big.

"Yes, well," he shrugged.

"So you talk with her a lot?" I asked.

He said something, but I didn't hear. I should've damn well been listening, but this idea popped into my brain. Well, maybe not an idea so much as a feeling, but it got a hold on me real strong. I was thinking about me and that Havemercy, up in the air somewhere on the other side of the Cobalts, with the Ke-Han screaming bloody murder down below, and us the ones that was doing the murdering. I'd pull on the reins and shout at her, and she'd shout back, and we'd be like this _team_. Not like a man rode a horse, or even a whore, but more like when me and Hilary was all curled up cozy-like in bed, and I tucked the blanket tighter around him 'cause I knew he was feeling cold. It was like that.

I was kind of lost in my own brain, wandering-like, and I felt pretty stupid when I came out of it and the airman was looking at me. Not saying nothing, just looking. I opened my mouth but for the life of me, I couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

Something on his face told me he didn't care, so I just shrugged.

"I really should not have been telling you any of that," the airman said finally, looking away. "I apologize, but I truly must be going. Again, I am most _terribly_ sorry for my previous conduct, and if you could find it in your heart to please, just-- it would put my conscience much at ease if you would…" He dug into his pocket and held out the money again.

"Yeah, sure," I said, not even hesitating this time. I picked each of the coins up off his palm-- two, three, four, five-- and slid them into my pocket. Then I grabbed his wrist.

He looked at me like I'd up and lost my mind.

"I _told_ you," I reminded, "the first time was free."

He was a fair bit taller than me but not built near as sturdy, and with how shocked he was, it didn't hardly take nothing to walk him back against the side of the building. When his back hit, he let out this puff of breath like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. My free hand tugged at his belt.

"So," I said, "how do you want it this time?"

He shook his head, his cheeks pink like a flustered maiden and eyes not meeting mine. "I did not come here for--"

"I hate when people lie to me," I told him, my fingers working at his fly. "But you know what I hate more? When they lie to their own fucking _selves_."

He swore when my hand found its mark, and I liked the sound of it on his lips. He was just as ready as last time, hard and heavy in my grasp, and I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth trying to figure what would do him best. He deserved it. I had a lot to fucking thank him for, both with the dragon and the coin.

"Like before," he gasped. "Do it-- like before. _Please_ …"

Not too inventive, but who was I to judge? Wasn't my prick.

"Only so long as you don't rush me this time," I warned.

He didn't say nothing, just closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the brick. _Didn't come here for this_ , my left nut! I chuckled low and soft under my breath and went down on my knees.

Seemed like the noblesse got everything in this world, and I was betting there wasn't a thing this son-of-a couldn't get a hold of. He had it all-- money, respect, fancy manners, good looks, a fucking beautiful talking _dragon_ … even his _cock_ was damn near perfect. It jutted up and out at just the right angle, not even a hair off center, thick and smooth and coming about as close to pretty as such damn foul piece of anatomy could. I hadn't had a chance to notice it before, and it would've seriously pissed me off if I didn't have a pocketful of coin.

And if he hadn't smelled so fucking good. What _was_ that? 

I took a minute to relish it while I ran my tongue across the base of his shaft and then down over his balls, nice and slow so as he could feel every inch of it. His hips tilted at that, and he spread his legs further, almost like he was thinking on straddling me, though that wouldn't've done him much good standing up. 

I kept at it for a good while, letting him sink into the feel of it real slow, as he rubbed a palm over my shoulder. Then I wrapped my hand around him real gentle-like, gave a little squeeze, and started stroking. He sighed like it was just what he'd been needing, and his fingers drifted across to my neck. A bead of clear liquid formed on the tip of his cock, and as I worked him, it pooled and ran down the side and dripped over my knuckles. 

I licked it off, starting with my fingers and then up the heated flesh of his shaft 'til I could take the end between my lips. He jerked at that, making a muffled sound, and his pretty cock slid in and across my tongue like silk. I slid him in and out a few times, testing him like, my hand still wrapped fast down below. His fingers gripped my shoulder in time with my motions, and I knew it was time.

Looking up, I made sure his eyes were on me before I asked, "Ready?"

His pretty white teeth bit into his bottom lip.

And then I took him down my throat. 

With my chin pressed to his balls and nose in the wiry curls above, I got a whiff of that scent again, tinged with sex this time and all the better for it. His thighs shook, and I gripped at him to keep him steady, my fingers digging into the muscle. His ass was tight and hard as stone, and I thought of how it had got that way, with those legs gripping tight around his dragon's shiny metal sides, and started to feel my own self getting interested too. I shifted for a better angle, and my own cock, half stiff now, rubbed against the coarse fabric of my pants.

It wasn't him that was doing it to me though. I wasn't no Cindy and I never got off on men, _ever_. It was the dragon I was thinking of, that Havemercy, and how I was gonna ride her 'til I couldn't fucking stand no more. That'd get any man hard.

He moaned then, and I realized I'd been at it too long, working my throat around the end of his cock, and I pulled back. I pressed my tongue into the vein on the underside as I made my way up, and earned myself a shiver for my effort.

Right then he looked like he did in that dream I had of him, his erection red and slick and waiting for nobody but me. I liked that thought, so I pressed a kiss against the tip, the sticky mix of my spit and his own fluid there clinging to my lips. When I pulled away, it stuck to my mouth like a thread pulling out of fabric. I grinned my most wicked grin and looked up at his eyes, deep and wide and staring at me like he'd never want to look at anything else again, and the strand broke and dripped down my chin.

His mouth flew open, and I almost didn't get my lips back around him in time to catch what came next. This one was all about the visual, I decided, doing my best to ride it out and not make a mess all down the front of me. There wasn't many men I could get over the edge just _looking_ at 'em filthy, and I felt pretty good about it despite the bad taste it left in my mouth.

When he'd finished, I tucked him back into his underclothes real gentle-like and climbed back up to my feet. I brushed the dirt off my knees. His face was red and lip swollen from him biting on it. The sun was high over us, and it shined in his eyes like something too bright.

"What's your name?" he asked me. Because he was the fucking master of saying things I didn't expect.

I wiped at my chin. "They call me Rook." It's how they'd named me on the streets, seeing as how I was good at what I did. Damn fortunate thing they didn't have any idea how good I was at _other_ things, 'cause who knew what they'd call me if they did.

He shook his head. "No, I mean your _real_ name."

"What's _yours_?" I retorted, 'cause he was getting pretty personal.

"Amery," he said.

"Airman Amery?" I asked, feeling pretty shocked he'd actually came right out and said it. Wasn't no real reason to. Didn't matter to _me_ one way or the other.

He nodded. "Yes. The very one."

"John," I told him. Don't know why I said it. Only I guess I was pretty pleased he was asking, 'cause it meant he was seeing his way toward coming back. Bet he realized he was better off asking for me by name than telling the girls he was looking for that blond kid that blew something incredible.

He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, John."

I laughed, wrapped my fingers around his palm, and shook. "Same here. And look, I know as how you gotta get back and all--"

"Oh!" he exclaimed, and swore. "Yes, yes I do. I'm terribly sorry, but I failed to remember the exact location of this establishment, and as Hapenny is quite a long road…"

"Stop being sorry for everything," I said, but in a friendly sort of way. "You can only do what you can do, right? I'll see you around."

He smiled and brushed his knuckles across my chin. "Yes," he said. "You will." 

I watched him walk away and felt bad for getting his nice clean white gloves all dirty like that.

That evening when Hilary got back from school, I had his new shoes and a big bag of oranges sitting on the bed waiting for him. The shoes wasn't _new_ new, but they were real nice, double-stitched leather with hardly any wear on the bottoms at all, and soft enough as they wouldn't give him blisters. Pretty extravagant, but my brother deserved it.

He gaped at them. "What're those for?"

"What do you mean, _what're they for_?" I grinned. "They're for _you_ , dummy."

"Who'd you steal them off?" he asked. Then he shook his head. "I mean, off _of_. I mean… _from whom_ did you steal--"

"Didn't fucking steal 'em," I snorted. "I _bought_ 'em. At the sundries market up in Charlotte."

"You bought them? With what money?" he demanded, unlacing his own shoes and tossing them by the chest. For all they were pretty small on him, they weren't in too bad a shape, and I could maybe trade 'em for a few pairs of socks. "They're a bit big," he said when he had the new ones on.

"You'll grow into 'em," I told him, thinking they looked real fine on his feet.

"I know," he said, and wiggled his toes. "They're perfect! But how did you _buy_ them, John? And the oranges, too?"

I shrugged. "Got me a bit of a deal going on."

He frowned and looked down at the shoes like he might not want them after all.

"Oh calm down now, it ain't nothing I'm gonna get caught at! Matter of fact, there's nothing _to_ get caught at. I didn't break a single damn law," I soothed. My airman-- Amery-- probably did by telling me all them things about the dragons, but that was on him, not me. "And what's more, there's probably gonna be more coin where that came from. Can't make no promises yet, but…"

Hilary grinned fit to crack his cheeks and launched himself at me. "You're the best brother _ever_!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around my neck. He'd've strangled me if his arms were any stronger than a little girl's. I patted him on the back and nuzzled my nose down in his hair, smelling of Ilsa's soaps like always. There wasn't nothing in this world could make a man feel more important than seeing how he took good care of his own.

"Now just so as you know," I informed him when he drew away, "a tall man with dark hair and real proper manners comes by and asks for me by name, you're to come find me right away, you hear?"

My brother snorted. "Tall, dark, and handsome, is it? Will he be carrying a shimmering sword and riding a pure white stallion as well?"

"Not exactly," I grinned, and mussed his hair. Stallions didn't breathe fire.

He laughed and ripped open the bag of oranges. 

*****

I kept having dreams about that Havemercy, thinking I could feel my thighs wrapped 'round her cool metal sides and the reins in my hands, and hear the wind whistling in my ears. It disappointed me something fierce when it turned out it was just me gripping the blankets and Hilary's cold feet on my legs, and one of the girls screaming upstairs. 

There was other dreams too, the kind that had me hissing curses under my breath when I woke 'cause the front of my pants was fucking soaked through. Wasn't like every man didn't have it happen, but it got pretty awkward washing out my clothes every damn morning. And cold too, seeing as I didn't have anything else to put on while they dried. 

I didn't want to leave in case he came by while I was out, but I figured if Amery didn't make it back in the next couple days, I'd have to see my way toward finding a woman or two to calm things down. Didn't make any damn _sense_ though, seeing as how he was the only one that got off on our little meetings. 

I liked doing it though. Not because I enjoyed sucking cock, 'cause I sure as fuck _didn't_ , but there was a sort of power in it. Like, maybe I was just some filthy Mollyrat urchin, but when I got my mouth on him, th'Esar himself couldn't've ordered him to keep calm. That was how good I did him.

'Course there was always the possibility Amery wasn't coming back, in which case I'd feel like a real ass. 

"Is there something the matter with you?" Hilary asked after a few weeks. He'd taken to stowing his new shoes under the end of the mattress after some bastard had broke in. Seeing as they couldn't read, thieves in Molly don't have no use for books, but anything else was fair game. Right now he had the shoes on though, and he was sitting on our mattress reading like usual. 

"Why are you asking me that?" I said. I was peeling the paint off the back of an old chair for no real reason other than how I liked peeling paint.

He shrugged. "You just don't seem like yourself lately. You're too quiet."

"Ain't got nothing to say," I told him. 

"Was he supposed to have come by now? The man you had that deal with?" he asked.

"I told you," I repeated, "I ain't got nothing to _say_. About that man or anything else. Alright?"

Hilary sighed and chewed on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry, John. You were quite fond of him, weren't you? Do you miss him terribly?"

Right then and there, I lost any illusions I had about my brother being innocent about the whole thing. He'd probably knew from the beginning, when I told him it wasn't illegal. Not a whole lot of ways you can make money legal-like around here.

"I don't want to hear you talking like that, you got it?" I said. "What I do to keep us afloat is my own fucking business, not yours."

"You're _allowed_ to like someone," he insisted, 'cause he was stubborn as a mule. "There's nothing _wrong_ with it."

"I don't _like_ him," I snapped. "I like his _money_."

Hilary sighed and closed his roman, running his thumb along the spine. It was falling apart and would like as not crack in half before he was done with it. "The examinations for 'Versity Prep are coming up. They're giving out ten full scholarships, and if I do well enough… not that I truly believe that I will, considering the competition and how poor my Arlemagne is, but if I _do_ …" 

I snorted and pulled a chip of paint out from under my fingernail. "You'll do fine."

"If you're so sure about it, then there's no reason to worry about the money," he pointed out. "The scholarship will be more than enough to pay for everything, including room and board at the school. That's why I said it was alright feeling the way you do about that man."

"I don't feel nothing for nobody but you," I told him, "but if you keep talking that kind of horseshit, I'm still gonna knock you one across the head."

He said something that sounded a lot like "Whatever," and went back to his reading. I decided if that whoreson airman didn't show up here in the next day or two, I was getting me some action-- and I mean down and dirty _fucking_ \-- come hell or high water. I'd had a bit of a tickle with this blonde in the back corner of a bar a few days back, and of course there was that redhead that'd gave me a quick demo, but that was _it_. Bastion, I hadn't had a me decent fuck in over a _month_! Wasn't no healthy man should be forced to wait that long. No wonder Hilary was thinking such damn strange things.

The next afternoon I was pulling a few things out of the prop room for the girls' evening show-- eight of 'em singing and dancing, kicking their legs around and showing clever little flashes of underclothes, all for a mere hapenny a seat-- when Ilsa called my name. She'd been arguing with Nanette all day over the placement of the tea cart, and I'd had about enough of listening to it.

"You want it moved, you _fucking_ move it yourself," I told her, not bothering to look up. "Where I fucking put it is where it's _fucking_ staying, and that's that. No one's gonna fucking notice it anyway, you little--"

"I'd sure as rain _like_ to move it myself, but he says he's come here to see _you_ ," she said in her sweetest voice. I sure didn't know what the hell she was babbling about. 

"I apologize for interrupting your work," Amery said. "Should I wait outside?"

And there he was standing in the parlor like he walked right out of a roman, and looking a hundred times too good to be talking to someone like me. I couldn't've been happier if he'd been Lady Greylace herself with her bodice undone and skirts raised, telling me she was giving it out free. _Fuck no, you shouldn't wait outside!_ I almost yelled. Then I got a hold of myself and set down the stool I was rearranging. 

"No, 'course not," I told him, my heart still beating pretty hard in my chest. "Why don't you come around back, we can talk there. Thanks, Ilsa."

"No problem, darling," she said, and waved as she turned away. "But if you run your mouth off like that at me again, you're gonna have my boot shoved down it, you piss-drinking son-of-a."

"Love you, sweetheart!" I called.

She blew me a kiss over her shoulder.

"Charming girl," Amery said.

I laughed and opened the door to the prop room.

Hilary looked up from the paper he was writing when I stepped in, and his jaw dropped when he saw Amery. 

"Hey kid, why don't you see if any of the girls needs some help up in the rooms, huh?" I suggested.

He nodded, capped his ink, and scrambled up off the floor. His mouth was still hanging open, and I knew he was pretty damn impressed with the looks of my airman. He should've been, too. I'd netted me the best one of the whole fucking bunch.

"Is this your… do you stay here?" Amery asked when the door was shut. "In this room?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, mostly." 

"Ah," he said, and seemed a little disgusted. 

Maybe it wasn't much, and it smelled a bit, but it was a sight better than what _most_ orphan 'rats had, and he didn't have to look around like even standing here would taint him. Self-centered bastard. Why the fuck was I thinking I wanted to see him, anyway? I must've gone soft in the head.

When I didn't say nothing, he cleared his throat. "I would tell you I'm sorry for not coming sooner, but if I recall correctly, last time you advised me not to apologize so frequently."

"Yeah," I said, like the street kid I was, and crossed my arms. "You got a point?"

He shifted on his feet, frowning. "Have I done something to displease you?"

But there wasn't any use in getting him pissed off, or being pissed _with_ him. He held all the fucking cards, after all. And the place was pretty bad, seeing it through his eyes. He probably had closets bigger than this back home.

I wiped a hand across my cheek, hoping my face wasn't too dirty. At least I'd shaved. "Guess I'm a little on edge. Had it figured you wasn't coming back after all."

"I told you that I would," he reminded. "Did you not judge me to be a man of my word?"

I didn't say nothing, but I felt pretty fucking stupid. How old was I, about to throw a fucking temper tantrum over some Cindy not visiting me? It was fucking disgraceful, that's what it was. I was a fucking disgrace.

"One of the men with a dragon similar to mine recently dislocated his shoulder and has only just been cleared by the doctors to return to duty. I had to help pick up his shifts," Amery explained, "and there was little time left for anything else but sleeping."

"Sounds pretty rough," I told him, wondering if it was one of the men I'd seen here that night. I could remember all that like it was yesterday, every man jack of the Dragon Corps I'd seen, and the lone body sitting behind the screen. I could see the way Amery looked at me when I started chatted him up, and how his expression softened while we talked. The way he sipped wine, with his snow white glove wrapped 'round the stem. How wide his eyes got just before I'd went down on him. 

He nodded. "Yes, well things will go much more smoothly when we manage to get Havemercy up and flying. The reason I'm here, actually, is to address a certain issue concerning her."

"Let's not talk dragons right now," I told him.

He stared at me like I'd started talking in Ke-Han or something. 

"In a few minutes," I clarified, "so keep it in the back of your brain. Right now I want to try something out…"

His jacket was black, so I didn't figure I'd leave marks on it too bad. I ran my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and back to his collar. It was a real nice jacket, wool with epaulettes and a fancy tight collar. I pulled open the top button.

"Please do not undress me, John," he said in a pinched voice.

"I ain't," I told him, liking how he'd used my name. "Just thought we'd do something a little different today, if you catch my meaning."

"I liked," he swallowed. "Last time was perfectly… what you did-- I mean what _we_ did, was--"

I chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "That wasn't nothing. I'm gonna give you a _real_ treat today. A welcome back present like, seeing as how I been missing all them pretty noises you make for me."

How a man could go up hundreds of feet in the air on a flying metal dragon breathing fucking _fire_ without a trace of fear, but look like he was about to crap his own self when I wanted to show him something would have his blood pumping real nice, I didn't know. It was damn crazy if you asked me.

But nobody asked me, 'specially not Amery. He just stood there staring at me, all but shaking in his shiny boots, as I undid my pants. I stepped onto the mattress, faced the back wall, and kneeled down. He took a deep, shaky breath as I eased the fabric over my backside and down my thighs.

"What do you think? You in?" I asked, leaning on my elbows so as to give him a real good view. When I looked back, he was standing right where I'd left him, with one hand raised up funny like he'd meant to cover his eyes but hadn't made it that far.

"Come on," I said, voice low and smooth. "We both know how much you want it."

He shook his head, and for a second, I thought he was gonna make things difficult and say he didn't want nothing of the like. Not much I could've done to stop him walking out with my bare ass waving up in the air like it was. His voice came out barely a whisper: "I really shouldn't do this."

"You really _should_ ," I countered.

But he just kept staring like he couldn't get his brain around the idea.

"Well?" I said, and spread my legs a little further. 

Then he was pulling at his belt almost frantic-like, his fingers moving too fast and the click of the buckle sharp in the quite of the room. The metal-on-metal sound made me think of dragon wings, and I was sure I'd get me some real good info out of this one. 

It was too bad I didn't have an actual real bed with a frame and all instead of just a mattress on the floor. I didn't like how he had to kneel on the ground, but there wasn't nothing I could do about that. You gotta work with what you got. 

My airman slid in between my thighs and had one hand on the mattress and the other sort of grabbing at my side like he didn't know where to put it. I thought maybe he really didn't, and slid it down to my hip. His hand was warm through the leather of his glove, and his fingers gripped almost too tight into my skin.

I gritted my teeth when he pressed in.

I hadn't done this since I was hardly older than Hilary and real desperate for coin 'cause he'd come down with some kind of bastion damned flu, and them times I'd been prepped for it. Without nothing to smooth the way, it fucking _burned_. I tried to relax, but I was pretty tight and the angle was off 'cause we were on the fucking _floor_ , and all I could do really was wait it out like a bad storm. I couldn't even say none of them things men liked hearing about how good and hard and strong they was, and all that horseshit.

My airman didn't notice. I was getting the idea he hadn't adventured outside of women much before. It was easier on a body if you could swing it, going on like you wasn't no different from everyone else and not having to worry too much about the names they were calling you behind your back. Couldn't figure as how this one had managed though, seeing as how obvious it was he had a real hankering for the feel of lean muscle beneath him, and not the soft skin and perfumes that did it for men like me.

But like I said, I was pretty tight and it must've felt real good to someone that'd been doing nothing lately but eating, sleeping, and killing Ke-Han. 

I pressed back against him the next time he pushed in, thinking on how I'd done it before, and how I'd want it done if it was a woman. That earned me a grunt, and I figured I was heading in the right direction, so I kept it up. 

He had both hands on my hips now, still holding too damn hard, and was thrusting in good and steady. His pants was still on, and the rub of the fabric scratched against my bare skin even though he wasn't being too rough with me, all things considered. If I was one of the girls, I'd start faking it about now. But I wasn't any sort of whore, and even if I was, it would've been pretty obvious just looking between my legs how I was taking it.

It was a fucking _relief_ when Amery finished. He made this sort of strangled noise, and after a minute rubbed a hand against my back and pulled out.

I tugged my pants back up and sat, then decided that was a damn awful idea and sort of kneeled-like.

Amery was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his own pants already done back up and an odd sort of frown on his face. His legs was stretched out in front of him, and he stared at his boots like he couldn't see his way toward looking anyplace else just yet. Not the usual reaction, but then he wasn't any sort of usual man.

"Gonna make it, Airman Amery?" I asked. The buttons on his jacket were still undone, and I reached over nice and slow and did them back up for him. He looked at my hands like he hadn't never seen anything like 'em in his life and couldn't figure what they were here for and whether or not he wanted to bite 'em off.

"Hey," I said, all gentle-like. This one wanted real delicate handling. "You need a drink or something?"

"I want to take you someplace," he answered.

"Well, today's just full of surprises, ain't it?" I asked, smiling at him.

"Would you go with me?" he asked, like I'd be stupid enough to turn him down. He didn't smile back.

"Am I gonna get me some dragon talk once we get there? 'Cause I'm ready for it now. Been dreaming about that Havemercy," I told him. I couldn't figure whether I should mention what else I'd been dreaming of, so I didn't.

He nodded and made like he was gonna squeeze my shoulder. Then she shook his head and dropped his hand like he'd thought better of it. "Perhaps," he started, and then shook his head again. "Just to be clear on what has taken place between us… but no, that isn't entirely the proper way to begin either."

"I know what happened," I said. "I was there. But if you want to say it _didn't_ happen--"

"No," he interrupted. A crease formed between his eyebrows like he was thinking this one out real hard. "That was not at all what I meant. It would simply be better if we kept it between ourselves. That way, if ever _you_ should desire for it not to have happened, the transition should be much smoother."

Like usual, I didn't have the foggiest idea what the fuck he was going on about, so I just nodded. I didn't know why people with any sort of learning had to go and make things more complicated than they really were. Maybe it was like the more words you knew, the worse you were at using 'em. They floated around and got all twisted up inside your brain or something.

Amery stood up, reached into his pocket, and set something on the chest. I was guessing it was money, but I didn't look to see how much. Hilary'd take care of it for me.

"So, where we going?" I asked.

"You shall see when we arrive," he told me, all secrets and mystery. 

"Sounds like fun," I said, and escorted him out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I hadn't never been in a hansom before. I'd rode on the back of one or two hitching a ride, but not actually _in_ one. It almost made me forget about how my ass hurt, though it wasn't half as bad as I was afraid it would be. Sitting across from me, Amery didn't seem embarrassed I was all but hanging out the window watching Charlotte fade into Miranda, and that was good 'cause I wasn't planning on behaving myself anytime soon. I was a Mollyrat born and bred; we pissed on the rules.

Anyway, up here everything was big and bright and shiny and practically _begging_ to be stared at. All the buildings were made of brick or concrete, with fancy carvings and some sort of dark, slick rock you could see your reflection in. A few of 'em off in the distance had tops like onions, in colors so gaudy they'd've looked right at home on Madam. The streets were so clean, I bet you could've ate off 'em. It was so different from Molly, with her trash heaps and rickety wooden buildings, I felt like I was in a whole nother country. 

"Fuck _me_ ," I murmured.

"Have you never been to Miranda before?" Amery asked.

"Do I _look_ like I been to Miranda before?" I shot back, and a huge domed place with walls whiter than the pages in Hilary's books caught my eye. "What's that building?"

"Which one are-- oh, that is Our Lady of a Thousand Fans," he told me.

I whistled and swore. So _that_ was where all the fancy whores was kept. Looked like the right place for 'em!

"I suppose you're wondering why I've deemed it appropriate to shuttle you clear across Thremedon," Amery said.

"Not really," I answered, and grinned as we passed by a couple pretty ladies in front of a flower shop. I whistled at them too.

He cleared his throat. 

I laughed and reached across and squeezed his knee.

This look came on his face that I couldn't explain any better than why he was taking me with him in the first place. I trusted him though, as much as I trusted anyone. He wasn't looking for nothing would do me harm, I knew that. Maybe he wanted to dress me up pretty and take me out for dinner, then strip me down in some hotel. Maybe he wanted to see about keeping me someplace closer so as he didn't have to keep slogging through the filth of Molly no more to get to me. Or maybe he just felt like taking a carriage ride. Wasn't none of my business. Except for one thing.

"So what's up with that Havemercy?" I asked. 

"Ah," he said, and tugged one of his gloves tighter onto his fingers.

"You said we're talking dragons now, right?" I reminded.

"Yes," he replied, and nodded. "That I did. What would you say if I told you she may be flying tonight?"

"Tonight?" I said. Just like that, looking out the window didn't hold a speck of interest for me no more. "And I might get to see her?"

"You will most decidedly get to see her," he agreed.

I could've fucking _kissed_ him. If I was some kind of Cindy, I would've.

"I've mentioned you to her as well," he continued. The corners of his lips turned up at the look on my face even though he seemed set on not smiling any. "She seemed… unimpressed."

I snorted. "Yeah, well I'm a whole lot more impressive in the flesh."

"That you are," he said, making me feel pretty good about myself. "But in the condition that she may deign to disagree-- and she is quite disagreeable, so please do not feel that I have in any way led you astray-- you should retreat with the utmost haste should you care to retain your limbs."

I had to think about that one, I mean really _think_. But something was twisted up all funny in my head, and I couldn't make hide nor hair of it. How would she be seeing me all the way down on the ground?

"We've arrived," Amery said.

I looked out the window at the building we'd stopped in front of. It was an ugly sort of thing, all square and blocky and cold looking. Didn't seem to fit with the rest of the city with its stark grey lines and hard angles, and I thought it a shame someone had seen fit to put it here and ruin the view.

"Where are we?" I asked, following Amery out of the carriage.

He handed some coin to the driver and said, "This is the Airman. Come, we'll enter through the service doors." 

Next thing I knew, he was guiding me down this long corridor that smelled like something out of a nightmare-- metal and char and oil, ash and fire. There was something to it that excited me though, and it was starting to sink in what was happening. He hadn't took me here to watch a dragon flying overhead. He'd brought me to see her up close.

Even though I'd got it figured out, I wasn't ready when he pushed open the double-doors at the end of the hallway, flooding us with bright light from what looked like a stable. And then I caught sight of her over top the metal enclosure, just one rolling metal shoulder and the spines on her neck. I couldn't help but gawp at her, even if I _did_ look like a damn fool. 

Amery led me closer, and I noticed things I hadn't been able to before with her way up above. The razor-sharp gleam of her scales and the silent turning of the gears in her chest, like something you'd see in a smashed-open clock, kept me staring like a boy on his first visit to a whorehouse. Only she was prettier than any sort of whore _I'd_ ever saw.

"This," said Amery, "is Havemercy. Havemercy, this is the young man I was telling you about."

She looked up then, and her eyes were black with white centers, no lashes, rimmed in pale gold. After a while, she blinked at me twice.

"He looks filthy," she said, in a voice like a bellows-box squeezing closed. 

"Yes," Amery said, "well."

"She is the most beautiful thing I ever saw," I whispered.

"I don't care how pretty he is, I'm not being ridden by someone who hasn't discovered bathing yet. I'm not a wet nurse," she told Amery, and then said to me, "I think maybe I'll kill you."

"Fine," I said, in kind of a daze. "Can I touch your teeth first?" They were long as my hand, and shining bright as my knives. Whatever magician designed her did a _damn_ proper job of it, that was for sure. Getting my head parted from my body by _those_ things would almost be worth it.

Was this love?

Amery made a noise in the back of his throat like he was real unhappy. 

Havemercy turned her head and brought it forward like she was trying to get a view on something just outside her vision. "You ever seen a man die, little bugger?" she asked. "It's not a pretty sight."

I shrugged, my eyes on the smooth joints in her neck and the clever way they fitted together, graceful like a dancer. "People in Molly's pretty desperate. You ain't careful, you'll get your throat slit over a few hapennies jingling in your pocket. Ain't nothing new to me."

"You the careful type then, kid?" she asked.

"No," I said, and showed all my teeth, though it wasn't a smile. " _I'm_ the one doing the killing."

She clicked her tongue, with a sound like a blacksmith's hammer. "I _like_ this one," she said. "Get the harness."

It was definitely love. That was the only thing it _could_ be. She and I were two of a kind, cut from the same cloth, and we were gonna make one hell of a team. 

Amery said something about going to get someone, but I didn't much hear him. I was busy pulling the harness off the wall and figuring the best way to get it on her. Havemercy had these loops in her jaw like chain links, so I hooked the ends to that, then threw the reins over her back. She lowered herself down for me to throw a leg over and climb onto her, my thighs sliding down over the smooth metal. She was griping about how dirty I was and telling me how to hold the reins-- tight enough so as I could feel her move, but not so tight she couldn't turn-- when we were interrupted.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice behind us boomed.

"What does it _look_ like we're doing?" I shot back at him, though I didn't mean for it to come out as rude as it did.

"We're riding out," Havemercy supplied. "Open the hatch."

"Get the fuck down from there," the man said. "You ain't going anywhere."

I twisted around in my seat to tell him as how I _was_. He was a stocky man a bit past his prime, with a set to his massive jaw like he was used to being listened to. He had on this blue jacket with shiny buttons and a burn mark across his left sleeve. Amery was standing behind him with his arms crossed, looking pretty smug.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded.

"I'm the fucking Chief Sergeant," he told me. "Now get the fuck off that dragon."

"Open the damn hatch. I feel like spreading my wings, you ignorant bastard," Havemercy told him.

I pulled on the reins and had me a good hard laugh.

The Chief Sergeant looked ready to punch someone, probably me. "You can't fly out in civilian clothes, and if you go up sitting that far back, you'll like as not break your neck. Nobody's opening the hatch. Now get the fuck _down_."

I opened my mouth to tell him just what I thought of his orders, but Amery motioned toward me to stop. "You really must do as the Chief Sergeant says. Recruits are usually trained from a very young age, and you'll need to at least go through some basic tutorials before you'll be allowed to fly."

Havemercy grumbled and flicked her tail. "Leave the harness on."

I was pretty annoyed, but I did what I was told, if only because I didn't know how to open the hatch myself. "We'll go up soon," I told my girl. I thought of her that way already, like it was a signed-and-sealed deal, and as far as _I_ saw things, it was.

The Chief Sergeant was called Adamo, which I privately thought was a pretty stupid name. He wasn't none too happy with the looks of me, even now I was off his prize dragon. The usual Corps recruits were hand picked and taught to be smug, brown-nosing assholes while still babes at the teat. They came in with spit-shined boots and noses in the air from the get-go, not stained pants and torn shirtsleeves and knives strapped to their selves. 

Adamo sat me down in some room with a desk and gave me a stack of about a million papers. "Just put an X on all the lines," he instructed me, and handed over a pen. "Th'Esar ain't going to be too pleased, but I'll see what I can do. Havemercy hasn't taken to a single man but you, and I don't cherish the idea of waiting any longer to get her up in the air. Been too long already. And I know how that makes you think you're pretty damn special, but don't forget who's in command here. You'd best start taking orders and _liking_ it if you think you're flying with the Corps." 

_Yeah, that's really gonna happen_ , I thought, but didn't say nothing. I flipped through the papers and tried reading 'em a bit, but none of it made any damn sense no matter how hard I squinted at it, so I just did like Adamo told me. Wasn't like they could prove it was me anyway.

After that he sent me to the showers, and it took damn near an hour to get myself cleaned up proper-like. Half that time I spent fussing with the knobs. Turning one of 'em made the water freezing cold, and the other got it so hot it burned, and I'd be fucked if I could figure out how to twist the things right to get warm. 

When I got done, half froze and half scalded but so clean I all but fucking sparkled, there was a uniform waiting for me. It was nicer than anything I'd ever wore, and the boots were brand spanking new, though I wondered whose brilliant idea it was to make the pants white. I'd have 'em dirty in about a minute. I hooked my knives to the shiny black belt.

"Good," Amery told me when I stepped out, my skin still red and raw where I'd scrubbed it. "Very good. Now let's get you briefed, shall we?"

He made it sound easy, but it was a fucking ball-breaker. First a team of about a dozen medics poked and prodded at me, and made me turn my head and cough while they stuck their hands in places that would've earned 'em a knife between their ribs in a different time and place. Then all these men in fancy clothes came and gave me real hard looks, and Adamo had me look at all these maps and diagrams, and he read me off these things he called "procedural guidelines" 'til my head spun. After that, I had to put more X's on things and answer a bunch of questions nobody seemed to think I should be getting right. They kept asking me the same damn things over and over with a little different wording, like I was some kind of idiot just 'cause I didn't talk proper. By the time I got back to Havemercy, I was fit to be fucking tied. 

"You smell better," she told me. "Look pretty flashy, too. I like that in a pilot. What the hell kept you?"

"Fucking _procedure_ , that's what kept me," I griped, though I felt pretty good with her complimenting me, and straightened my jacket a little. If I went back to Molly looking like this, the girls would spread their legs for me in the _streets_. "If one more idiot makes me explain how to hold the reins one more time, or gets out a fucking magnifying glass to examine my right ass cheek--" 

"Quit dragging your damn heels, then, and get on. I want to fly down by the docks and see the boats," she said. 

"No boats," Adamo announced. He'd came in right after me to make sure every little thing was done proper. "You go up, you circle tight around the Airman, and you come back down. Shouldn't take you five minutes. You're up there any more than ten, and I'll be coming up myself to escort you back down."

It was our first run, so I didn't blame him for being careful, even though I knew it was the dragon he cared about, and not me. If I got my neck snapped or fell off or did something else equally stupid, it didn't mean a damn thing to the Chief Sergeant. It was Havemercy he cared about, and how she could get tore up real good if left to her own devices. Until I proved myself, I wasn't worth the boots on my feet, and I knew it.

Havemercy's sides felt cold and hard against the insides of my legs as I slid down onto her back, but fluid too, like a woman's waist. I shivered just thinking about getting her up in the air. "We'll see the boats next time," I told her, taking hold of the reins. "We better play nice just this once, lull 'em into a false sense of security."

She laughed at that, a metallic sound somewhere between a bell and a gong but not really sounding like either, and turned to face the hatch that opened onto the city. 

"Five minutes," Adamo barked. "Don't even _think_ about testing me on this one."

And then the hatch dropped open, and we were off. There was this big drop right as she kicked off the ground, and I thought for one crazy second we were gonna hit the pavement. Then her wings went out and up, and down again, and I was leaving any sort of worry behind me along with what felt like half my insides. They caught up with me when we leveled out-- my insides, not the worries-- the wind blowing my hair back, and buildings growing small like toys underneath us. The people were tiny as ants.

It was a minute before I remembered I was supposed to be turning a circle and pulled the reins in. I was holding 'em so tight, my fingers hurt. 

"Puke on me, and you die," Havemercy said.

It was the best fucking thing I ever heard in my life. I didn't care what the words were, it was just the sound of it that had me soaring, my heart kind of catching in my chest, skipping a beat. I was up in the sky on my own fucking _dragon_ , and the rest of the world was so small and fragile and meaningless, I didn't care if I ever went back again. No woman of flesh and blood could've gave me a ride this good for all the gold in Volstov. It was the best thing I ever felt.

It was perfection.

I let the feeling build in my chest the same way I let things build lower down when I was riding a different kind of girl, 'til I couldn't take it anymore. My lungs got tighter and tighter and finally I opened my mouth, and this sound came out. It was more like an animal than a man, raw and deep, and when I finished I felt so good, I could've collapsed. She looked back at me, her neck twining between her great gleaming wings, and it was clear as day she felt it too. 

It was almost like it was the first time for both of us, even if she'd really did it before with some son-of-a she killed later, and some girl had gave me _my_ first thrill on a blanket that smelled like rat droppings. I laughed like a maniac. When we got back around and the Airman was an ugly little grey block draped with our shadow, I tugged Havemercy's head up. "One more circle," I told her.

"Damn right," my girl agreed. And she _was_ mine now, mine and mine alone. 

The Chief Sergeant wasn't happy with our extra loop, but there'd been this kind of tightness to his jaw before that wasn't there when we landed, safe and sound, not a scratch on either of us. "Looks like we've got ourselves a winner," he said, his voice gruff. "About damn time."

I threw him a shit-eating grin, legs still gripped tight around the sides of my dragon 'cause I didn't want it to end. "Yeah, royal _fucking_ flush."

"More like a pair of deuces," he said, "but you'll do. My office in ten. Grab yourself some food from the kitchen on the way."

Pair of deuces my ass. But I didn't care what he thought. Havemercy and me, we knew the truth.

" _Fuck_ , that was sweet," I told her as I all but forced myself to climb down. I was so stiff, I felt like I'd been riding for hours instead of minutes, or laying it on some fine young thing all night long. It was a good feeling.

"You'll do," Havemercy told me.

"Oh, don't play all coy with me now," I said, grinning as I unhooked her harness. "I know when I've gave a girl a good ride. You liked it as much as me." My finger nicked one of her teeth, and a thin line of blood welled up across it. A shiver went down my spine, and I licked it clean. 

"I'm only relieved I got through it without being soiled by any of your bodily fluids," she said. "You humans are damn foul."

I left the lie hanging in the air like the smoke and mirrors it was. "What's this loop on the bit for?"

"Hooks to the lever that ignites the gasoline," she said. "The handlers'll show you how to attach it if you manage not to get yourself killed too soon."

I laughed and ran my hand over her cheek, feeling like my life was complete. I could've stayed there all day talking to her-- fuck, just _looking_ at her!-- but I didn't want to piss off Adamo _too_ bad. He was the one that had the power over when and where I flew, my nuts gripped in his fist, so to speak. Would've been easier making my way to join him if my legs hadn't turned to jelly, but I wasn't complaining.

So that was about how my new life at the Airman went from then on out: learning procedure, answering stupid questions, stuffing my face with anything I could grab out of the icer, and riding my girl 'til I couldn't hardly stand. The other Dragon Corps only flew out every so often, but I got to get up in the air every day, seeing as how I was being trained up and needed the practice. Me and Havemercy was ready to kill Ke-Han right here and now, and I said as much, but the dumbshits in charge didn't agree. 

I wasn't worried. It'd come soon enough.

After the first few times up, my whole body ached so bad I couldn't tell where one hurt stopped and the next started. I didn't much care; it was the best sort of pain I'd ever had, and Havemercy was worth every minute of it. She was worth _everything_.

With my time all tied up training, it was days before I had a minute to even see straight and managed to get a word in private-like to Amery. His room was right next to mine because of how his girl was penned up beside Havemercy down below, everyone's rooms being right above their dragons. There wasn't nobody out in the hall at the moment, so I let myself in. He was sitting in a chair under the window with a book, and he looked up when he saw me.

"Your door was open," I told him.

"Yes," he said, "I am aware." 

"I wanted to say thanks," I offered, pulling the door shut behind me. "For getting me in here and introducing me to Havemercy and whatnot. Would've said before, but I wasn't sure as you wanted me talking about anything where the others might hear."

Not that I'd saw much of the others. I caught glimpses of 'em all wandering around during the day and heard 'em whooping it up in the common room at night during the two seconds between the moment my head hit the pillow and when I fell asleep. But I hadn't said nothing to any of 'em, and they pretty much ignored me. The man with the ghost-like blond hair I'd seen at the whorehouse gave me a nasty look once when I was blocking his way in the kitchen, but that was about it. I was guessing they figured I was gonna go the way of the rest of the recent recruits, and probably in a body bag. No use making nice with a corpse.

"Ah. Well, bringing you here was as much for our benefit as it was for yours," Amery explained. "We're all exhausted from picking up so many shifts, especially during Luvander's injury, and I had a feeling you and Havemercy would be perfect together. I have a sense of these things, you see. And you needn't worry: I told Adamo only that I'd met you in Molly, nothing else. No one suspects that anything at all untoward may have occurred between us."

"I appreciate that," I said. "And I ain't telling a soul about nothing 'untoward,' so if you're worrying, don't. It's none of their damn business. So like I said, thanks. For everything."

"My pleasure," he told me, and I figured he couldn't've said it truer if I was in his pants right then and there.

Still standing in the doorway with my hand on the knob, I took a minute to check out his room. It looked a lot like mine, with a bed, dresser, and desk, and the trap door that led down to his dragon. But his shelves were lined with books, and he had a couple extra pairs of boots sitting by the door. And unlike the rest of the Airman, which was stark and bare, he had some framed prints up on the walls, landscapes of someplace near a lot of water, probably the ocean. They looked peaceful though, not one bit like the docks in Molly. I wondered if he'd been there, or was seeing his way toward getting there one day, or just plain wanted to be someplace else.

"Is there something further that I can do for you?" he asked, setting his book aside like he knew the answer, and making me wonder why he bothered asking.

I shrugged and twisted the lock between my fingers. "I was thinking maybe there was something I could do for _you_."

"Is that so?" he asked.

I stepped up next to him, pulled my shirt over my head, and tossed it on the end of his mattress.

His mouth fell open like he hadn't never seen a bare-chested man before. Now I know I looked damn good, 'specially all cleaned up like I was, but I hadn't never had nobody fucking _gape_ at me before. I was starting to think he'd walked around blind his whole damn life. That or he'd been dropped on his head as a kid one time too often.

"Now don't think this is in exchange for what you did for me," I warned. "'Cause it ain't. We're all on the evens now, and I ain't got no need to trade favors, with my clothes on or off. What we done is what we done, but it's _over_ , and I'm through with all that. You got me?"

"Then why are you doing this?" he murmured, eyes glued to my chest.

"Doing it 'cause I _want_ to," I answered. Like it wasn't obvious. I did whatever the fuck I saw fit, and he'd better get that through his dropped-once-too-often head straight off. "How do you want it? Like last time?"

He swallowed, and his head cocked kind of funny, like a dog when you said a word it thought it might know. "Yes," he said in an odd voice. He blinked and added, "Please."

"Want me to undress you?" I asked.

He looked down at his clothes like he couldn't figure what they were doing there.

I rolled my eyes and stepped close enough to unbutton his shirt. He followed my hands with his eyes as I moved down the fabric, my fingers pulling each button-- made of shell, or something else stupid expensive-- open across his chest. The skin underneath was near as white as his shirt. 

His hand caught my wrist.

"No," he said, throat tight, "on second thought, I believe I would rather keep it on."

I shrugged 'cause it was no skin off my back, and started in on my own buttons.

He said he wanted it like we done it before, but I couldn't really give it to him that way. It hadn't been so pleasant on the receiving end last time, so I'd made sure that wouldn't happen again. The inside of your knees got rubbed pretty raw keeping hold on the sides of a dragon, and the salve the medics gave you for it worked real good other places too. When he put it in me this time, half-kneeling and half-standing at the side of his bed, all I felt was a sort of pressure and then his hips against my ass.

It had to feel different for him too, smooth and slick instead of tight and dry. Maybe not as good as before if raw was what he was after. But he was a big boy; he could deal with it.

"This," he began. But then I guess he forgot what he was saying, and he started moving in and out real slow and easy, rocking almost. His hands ran up across my back all gentle-like, the leather of his gloves soft and warm. It was sort of like being in a fucking cradle, the motion he'd got going, and I couldn't figure if I liked it or not.

I don't know how long he kept it up. Maybe he felt more leisurely now he had me in his room instead of some smelly heap in the Mollywastes, or maybe he thought this was some kind of last hurrah. However long it was, it felt like fucking _forever_. And seeing as how I didn't get off on this sort of garbage, I started getting real bored with it.

Feeding him a bunch of horseshit compliments to speed him up was out of the question now, seeing how we were both Dragon Corps and pretty much equal as far as I saw it. Talking him up would like as not send him on some kind of powertrip. I thought about taking the matter into my own hands so to speak, but I'd feel pretty cindy bringing myself off in a situation like this. I'd only do it to pass time, not because of any feelings he was inspiring in me, but still. He might get the wrong idea and decide I thought taking his prick up my ass was some kind of fucking _treat_. Then I'd have to kill him, and that'd be real unfortunate.

I sort of liked the bastard.

So I did what I usually did when I got bored: I thought about Hilary. 

Now, I didn't get bored too often 'cause there was always work to be done in a whorehouse, or something to sell, swindle, or flat-out steal when I was out on the streets. He was my favorite thing to think of when I had the time though, 'cause he was such a plucky little son-of-a, and I couldn't imagine my life without him. 

I should've told him what I had going on. I'd made it out like something it wasn't-- this thing with Amery-- and I'd been gone too long now for any decent explanation. My brother was worried for sure, and it didn't bring me no joy being the cause of it. I didn't know when my first day off would be, but I had it figured I wouldn't be seeing any leisure for at least a month. Somehow, I had to get word to Hilary.

My elbows were starting to hurt from pressing 'em into the bed, so I pushed up onto my hands, my arms shaking a little on account of being so sore from riding. The blisters on my palms were starting to turn to calluses, but they were still pretty raw, and I had to be careful. Still going at it above me, Amery sighed and ran his hand down across my stomach and then up my chest. I wondered what he was thinking, if anything. When I had me a good hard fuck, I didn't think about nothing but _fucking_ , but if the girl was real conversational, or I was feeling more relaxed, I could get my mind around more than the feel of that tight, hot place between her thighs I was shoving up into. Or _down_ into, depending on the particular angle we'd took.

"You thinking about me?" I asked. 

He gripped me tighter and breathed in a shuddering breath. "John…" he moaned.

It wasn't any kind of an answer, but I liked it anyway. I whispered, "Harder," just 'cause it seemed like the right thing to do.

And then he was off to the fucking _races_ , like all it'd took was the word to send him over the edge. I tried saying his name, and that put him into thrusting something wild. I said it again, and arched my back, and that was it. He wrapped his arms around my chest and pressed his face between my shoulder blades, gasping and panting as he emptied himself into me.

I was pretty happy with it. He was pretty well wrapped around my little finger as far as I could tell, and even if none of the other airmen took to me or was put in line by my knives, I had at least one ally here. All I had to do was keep him interested, and that was a stroll in the park on a sunny day, so far as I could see. He was easy as a breeze. And with us being such chums and all, he was sure to take it on his own self to look after Hilary if anything happened to me. Respectable citizens were like that. Of course, I had to let him know Hilary even existed first.

"I need to get word to my brother," I told him after he'd pulled out and lowered himself onto his mattress. I was curled kind of on my side so as I could face him, with my hands balled up under my head like a pillow. He was on his back, and his prick was laying against his stomach soft and limp and pink. If it was any kind of sanitary, I would've put my mouth around it and got him all riled again. The thing just looked sort of pathetic now, defeated-like. I didn't like it.

"That boy in the back room with you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. And I know I was a lot nakeder than Amery was, but I didn't feel it. I was natural. He was fucking _indecent_ , and not in a fun way. More like walking in on Madam undressing. "I take care of him, you know, I have ever since our parents left. He's a good kid, but he'll like as not get himself into trouble if I don't let him know as how everything's alright. He's real precocious."

"Not anything like you, then," Amery said, smile tugging at his lips. 

" _Fuck_ no," I grinned. "I told you-- I'm on the straight and narrow. I ain't never seen a day of trouble in my whole damn _life_."

He laughed at that, low and soft, and I squeezed his shoulder.

"The minute I get my pay, I'm moving him straight out of Molly," I went on. "I was thinking I'd try and find him a place near the 'Versity maybe, somewhere that took in boarders. You know, like one of them with some old maiden Auntie cooking and doing wash and keeping everyone in line. They got those in Miranda? Or upper Charlotte, maybe?"

"Hmm," he mused. "I'm not sure about any Aunties, maiden or not, but there are a number of residences which board foreign students near the 'Versity whose proprietors may be willing to take him in. Before he died, my father was very close with one of the officials who often acted as a liaison for students from Caelia. This was back before the trade issues we've been having with them, of course, but I'm sure he still knows a number of addresses. I could get in contact with him if you would like."

I didn't have any idea what kind of trade issues had to do with Caelia-- matter of fact, I didn't even have a clue where the damn country _was_ \-- but I liked the idea of Hilary boarding with other students, even if they were older than him. He'd probably really get a kick out of tutoring them in Volstovic too. He sure did love correcting other people.

"You'd do that for me?" I asked. 

"Without hesitation," he replied, and finally saw fit to tuck himself back into his pants. I was glad for that. He went over to his dresser and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Would you like to dictate a letter to your brother as well? I'll see that it gets delivered tomorrow morning with the post."

I sat and grabbed my pants up off the floor. It was damn friendly of him to offer, but why would I want to dictate a note to my own brother? And then it dawned on me.

"I know how to fucking _write_ ," I told him. "Is that why Adamo had me put X's? 'Cause he thinks I'm a fucking _illiterate_?"

"Ah," he said. He shrugged his shoulders.

I put a good string of expletives together to describe just how I thought of our Chief Sergeant's parentage, view on my intelligence, and general ass-backwardness. 

"I apologize for interrupting such a colorful and imaginatively crafted rant," Amery told me, "but when you've finished, you are more than welcome to my ink and paper. I would appreciate if you would re-dress yourself first, however."

I snorted and tugged my pants on. Plenty of time to give Adamo hell later. "What? Making it hard for you to concentrate, Airman?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

Well, I couldn't argue none with that one, so I finished dressing, sat down, and wrote out a letter for Hilary. I hadn't never wrote any sort of letter before and I had a feeling I was doing it all wrong and my brother was gonna be tearing his hair out over it just as soon as he got over being relieved I was still alive. 

"This question may be unnecessarily impertinent," Amery told me as I was folding up the paper, "and if so, I beg your pardon, but is it your usual practice not to wear undergarments?"

"Didn't come with the uniform," I said, not about to admit I'd never owned a pair.

"If you don't consider the prospect too terribly distasteful, you are more than welcome to borrow a few pairs of mine until you have the occasion to procure your own," he offered. "I assure you that they have all been properly laundered."

I snorted. I'd just let him stuck his prick where the sun don't shine and was still slick with what he'd left inside, and he thought I'd be worried about his underwear not being clean? It was like he lived in some fantasy world or something. "Yeah, sure," I told him. "Why not."

So the way it shook down, the day I finally met the other airmen, I was wearing Amery's underpants.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The first one I met was Ace. I didn't know he was Ace at the time though because he didn't exactly introduce himself. He didn't look like much, just a kid a few years older than Hilary with dark red hair and a pointy chin. But he had some kind of skill, getting me to hate him before I even knew his name.

I was making a run to the showers real quick before I took my girl out for the day-- she bitched when I wasn't clean as a fucking whistle, which I figured was pretty damn classy, all things considered-- when I ran into him in the hallway. Seeing as how everybody'd been ignoring me, I shouldered past him.

"The Chief Sergeant warned us that if any of us interfered with your first week of training, we'd be on dog rations for a month," he said.

I stopped and turned to look at him. I didn't like the expression on his face. Or his face in general. "That so?" I asked.

"It seems that your week is up," he told me.

"Seems like," I agreed, and turned into the kitchen.

He followed me inside and watched as I started going through all the drawers. Everything was thrown every which way, with all these tricky metal gadgets and spoons and forks shoved in like a bunch of fucking monkeys lived here or something. I didn't know how anybody ever found anything.

"Here's a message from the Corps: you've had it way too easy for a new recruit," the kid said, probably thinking he sounded real tough. "That ends now. We don't accept others so easily, especially when they come in straight out of Molly, smelling like a trash heap. Even if Amery did speak up for you, you've got a lot of ground to cover. Prepare to earn our respect, or suffer the consequences."

"Well ain't you something special," I told him. "Where the fuck is your whetstone?" 

"Our what?" he asked, like he was all expecting me to be scared and couldn't figure how he'd gone wrong.

"Whetstone," I repeated. "I need to sharpen my knives, see?"

They weren't much to look at-- I'd stole 'em off a drunk when I was a kid, and they were older than I was, and real beat up-- but knives didn't have to __look__ pretty to cut like a charm. I held one up for the kid, twirling it in my fingers to let him know just how comfortable I was with handling it. When I was sure I had his full attention, his eyes near as wide as Amery's the first time I sucked him off, I stabbed it into the countertop beside me. It stuck up in the air a lot further than it did when I buried it between some son-of-a's ribs.

"Here's a message to the Dragon Corps," I said. "You and the rest of 'em better see your way toward earning __my__ respect. I don't mince words, and I don't take shit from nobody. From now on, this is __my__ show, got it? Oh, and tell 'em to send somebody bigger next time they want to try and intimidate a body. 'Cause frankly, kid, you ain't doing it for me."

He was gone pretty quick after that. Can't say as I blamed him. __I__ wouldn't want to fuck with me either, and it was obvious he was the new kid that'd got roped into the job anyway. Idiot.

After I got back from my ride, there was two more of the Corps waiting to make nice with me. What a fucking honor.

"Ace said you were looking for someone bigger," one of the men said. He was about twice Ace's size, with dark skin and hair. I recognized him from that night at the whorehouse. When he smiled, his teeth looked almost as white as Amery's, and I wondered if it was something in the water. 

The man beside him, tall and lanky and with hair closer to the color of Hilary's, I hadn't seen. He was having a pretty good laugh at something.

"Yeah? Well Ace must've took my wording wrong," I said. 

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Guess it is," I nodded. "All I said was I was looking for a whetstone 'cause my knives needed some sharpening. He didn't answer. Not too polite of him, if you ask me. Who's a man gotta fuck around here to get himself shown some fucking __manners__?"

The one that had been laughing went off again at "fuck," and the big airman gave me a look like he was sizing me up. "Heard you came in with Amery. Rode here with him in a carriage straight from Molly," he said. "That true?"

"Well I sure as fuck didn't come in riding th'Esarina," I countered.

"Would've made a good story!" the other man laughed, and clapped his partner on the back. "Here and we were afraid you were going to be something fancy, since Amery brought you!"

He seemed like the friendly type, and I didn't get the feeling I had much to fear from a man that got to hooting over a couple dirty words. I wasn't sure about the other, but this one I could deal with. "Closest to __fancy__ I ever been is up on Tuesday Street," I told him. "There's this whore there, they call her Fancy 'cause her real name's something like Fanilorentinia, and ain't nobody wants to fuck a girl called Fanilorentinia. Nobody's got the lungs to scream it in the end, you know?"

He was practically in hysterics over that one, and I was pretty happy about it. I was right about the Dragon Corps: they wasn't no better than anyone else. Excepting Amery, of course. I had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate my Fancy stories none. I sort of hoped he didn't find out I was telling 'em, either.

"I'm Ghislain," the bigger one said, and held out his hand. "And for th'record, Tuesday Street's down from Miranda, not up."

"I'll have to remember that," I said, and thought he squeezed my hand a little too tight to be considered sociable. I'd have to watch myself with this one. One little slip, and he already knew I'd came from the Mollywastes. Wasn't nothing else besides the docks was lower than Tuesday Street, after all.

"I'm Compagnon," the other said, and shook proper-like.

"Rook. A real __pleasure__ ," I said, and he busted out laughing again.

These two took me into the common room and introduced me to a few of the others: Ivory, Raphael, Merritt, and Niall. The first three I'd saw back in Molly, but Niall, who had a mouth like a girl and eyes the color of good chocolate, I hadn't. He seemed alright, if a little full of himself. At least I liked him better than Raphael, who thought he was something real special 'cause he knew a couple big words, and Merritt, whose twitching was gonna get on my last nerve real quick. Not to mention all them damn freckles.

Took me half a minute or less to figure out Ivory had bats in his belfry and would as soon gut me as exchange any sort of pleasantries. He was like one of them crazies you found wandering 'round the Mollyedge talking to their own selves, only with a piano. The only thing he could say to me was how he'd got his nickname on account of his playing, not from being one shade away from a fucking albino. Like I cared. 

"And you know what?" I said. "I ain't called __Rook__ on account of no bird."

He gave me a filthy look and turned back to poking at the keys.

Well, at least the feeling was mutual.

After a while, Magoughin lumbered in followed by Luvander, who had his long, dark hair tied back with some sort of stupid ribbon. He settled himself down on the couch and told me how Jeannot and Evariste was out drinking with Ace 'cause they had the afternoon off. I was alright with that 'cause I figured there was about enough of 'em in here already. There wasn't hardly anyplace to sit-- Raphael had to get up to make room for Magoughin. He wasn't too pleased to lose his seat, but you couldn't move a mountain with all the fancy words in the world, and if you asked me, Magoughin was pretty damn mountain-like. 

He had a particular liking for dirty jokes though, and we exchanged a few while Compagnon laughed and Luvander snorted and smacked his knee. That was the sort of mountain I could deal with. I couldn't deal with 'em all, though. Ivory was saying something crazy to Raphael that like as not involved hiding corpses, and Merritt was tapping his foot against the little table beside the couch with this loud __thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk__ ; the whole thing was really starting to put me on edge. I spent a minute figuring which of the two, Merritt or Ivory, would be the first one I'd gut, if it came down to it. But they were both such bastards, I couldn't decide. 

At supper time, a group of 'em took me down to the mess so as I could eat something more than just sandwiches and snacks and things. I was one of the Corps now, one of the _boys_ , and should be running with them, not Amery. Or so they said.

"He don't eat here?" I asked, and sort of wondered what he was up to.

Merritt shrugged, pouring gravy over his whole damn plate like it was a fucking pig trough. "He mostly keeps to himself," he said.

"And that's the way we like him," added Luvander.

"Do we like him?" Raphael asked, holding up a carrot he'd speared in front of his face and squinting at it like it was real interesting. " _Fascinating_. I wasn't aware…"

"You don't like him? Why's that?" I asked, playing dumb. For all _they_ knew, Amery picked me up right off the street. Wouldn't do to let on how I knew all about the son-of-a in question and his particular tendencies already.

"Don't rock the boat before you learn to swim," Ghislain said.

I sure didn't know what that meant, but everybody else seemed to. They got real interested in their food and wouldn't say a word. Then Magoughin started talking about breasts, so I left it alone. I'd get it out of 'em in the end. And anyway, you couldn't go wrong talking about breasts.

The food was good, and there was plenty of it, and they all seemed to like me alright-- with the exception of Ivory, who didn't seem to like nobody or nothing but his piano, and probably would've slept with the thing if he could've-- though I couldn't help but think it was too easy. There was something there I didn't see, but I could sense it. Years of living on the streets had taught me that much. They weren't gonna let me in this simple. 

Something was up.

When I woke up the next morning, my hand felt funny. Sort of wet-like. I couldn't figure what it was, and brought it up for a closer look. My hand was blue-- it was _fucking blue!_ \-- and now so was my face. I'd even got some in my fucking _hair_. It was some kind of fucking _dye_ or something. It wouldn't fucking come off no matter how hard I scrubbed at it, so I greeted the day with a giant blue smear across my face and a real itch to show my knives some use.

I wouldn't though. I was smarter than that. And I had less of a death wish. I could take out a few of 'em, but a full dozen? No way.

So instead of carving up the bastards, I pretended like nothing was wrong. Blue handprint? What blue handprint? You better get your fucking eyes checked, 'cause there ain't no blue handprint on _my_ face. 

And as they went around grinning and laughing behind my back (or in Compagnon's case, right to my face) I got to figuring how I could pay them back. I wasn't too good at plans and all that, and if I needed something thought out all reasonable-like, I'd always ask Hilary. But I hadn't heard nothing from him yet, and even if I had, I needed something right this fucking minute, not in however long it took to get a letter back and forth. 

I was pretty well frustrated, not to mention pissed as bastion, when I finally got down to see my girl. If she'd laughed at me, I think I'd've knifed one of the handlers for lack of anything better to do with myself. But she didn't.

"So they're up to _that_ again," she said, and gave her closest to an eye roll. 

I felt real damn relieved. Didn't seem like nobody much cared what happened to the little Mollyrat urchins that acted like mechanical muckrakers around here, but I wasn't thinking I'd get an award for offing one. "They do this all the time?" I asked.

Havemercy bent her neck down so as I could hook the harness up proper. I'd figured how to latch it so it caught on the mechanism that made her breathe fire, but I hadn't got it working proper in the air yet. "To all the new recruits, if they manage to stay for more than a day or two. Bunch of snot-nosed little fucks," she told me.

I liked how she'd started to pick up on my grammar. Made me feel pretty proud. "Snot-nosed little fucks, eh? Which ones? The Corps, or the recruits?" I asked, grinning.

"Take your pick," she told me. "And hurry up and get your legs around me. I feel like a hard ride today."

Let me tell you, I loved that girl something crazy. Bastion's own truth.

It was a good thing 'cause if I hadn't, I'd be feeling pretty low right about now. Even being able to sleep straight through the night on account of there being no screaming overhead or Hilary hogging the mattress, I was toeing the line of exhaustion like a drunk trying to walk a fence. My body still hadn't got used to flying yet, 'specially my shoulders, and they ached real fucking bad. Yesterday, Adamo'd had us take off about fifty times to make sure we had it down and could do it in the dark, and if I hadn't been real fond of my girl, I'd've thrown in the fucking towel. At the Chief Sergeant's fucking _face_.

Lately, I'd taken to cleaning Havemercy off after riding. The handlers were supposed to do it, and she promised me she wouldn't maim any of 'em too bad unless they tickled her _real_ wrong, but I didn't like them filthy little whoresons touching on my girl. They wanted to get up close and personal with such a damn fine piece of machinery, they could fucking find their own, and good luck to 'em. This one was _mine_.

When I'd got done, I was tired but still feeling pretty nice from the rush. Amery was in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich, alone like usual. Seemed like he used way too much mustard and lettuce and not enough meat, but whatever.

"Like my new fashion statement?" I asked, sliding in next to him against the counter. He hadn't been around this morning, so this was the first he'd seen me.

"It will wear off in a few days," he told me, not even looking up as he smoothed out his mustard just right so it was all perfect and even.

"You could've fucking warned me," I said, and pulled the knife out of his hand. It was more like a spatula really, not even sharp. What the fuck good was a knife if you couldn't stab nothing with it? I tossed it into the sink.

"They do it to everyone," he informed me, glaring and sounding real full of himself, "and no amount of warning could have prepared you. In a few weeks' time, they will have tired of the game."

"A few _weeks_?" I said. "Fuck that! I ain't dealing with this horseshit for another few _weeks_!"

"If you think that by coming to me, you might somehow be saved from the embarrassment, you are mistaken," he informed me. He situated the top piece of bread onto the sandwich like it was a work of fucking art and not something he was gonna be shitting out come tomorrow morning. "They leave me alone out of respect for my physical strength and notoriously limited patience, but I in no way dictate Corps hazing policy. There is nothing that I can do for you."

"Whoa," I said, "hold up. I ain't looking for some kind of savior or nothing like that. What I'm looking for is how to get back at them."

He stared at me, holding the sandwich out like it offended him. "This is not done."

"What does that mean, _not done_?" I asked.

"One does not _get back at_ the Dragon Corps. One puts up with their antics until he earns their recognition as a competent pilot, and they accept him into their bosom." He shook his head. "To attempt otherwise would border upon suicidal."

"Look," I said, "I ain't interested in none of them whoresons' bosoms. I just want to give 'em a dose of their own damn medicine, that's all. Now are you gonna help me, or not?"

"I am not quite insane," he insisted.

"Fine. Have it your way," I told him, and snatched his damn sandwich right out of his damn hands. He stared at me as I took a bite. "Too much mustard," I announced, making a face as I swallowed, and tossed the sandwich into the sink with the spatula-knife.

"If anyone else had so much as attempted such a thing, I would have broken his jaw," he said, almost like he couldn't believe his fist wasn't cracking into my face that very instant.

I leaned in and murmured, "Good thing you got other uses for my mouth, huh?"

His throat made this weird sort of noise, but he didn't say nothing. I wasn't thinking he would.

Truth be told, it annoyed me something awful, him not helping me. He could've at least gave me a couple suggestions on how to regain my bastion-blessed _dignity_ , for fuck's sake. It's not like we were best pals or nothing, but I helped _him_ out pretty nice, you know? I'd told him it wasn't any sort of exchange-- and it _wasn't_ \-- but I couldn't see my way toward being too helpful to him with a giant _fucking blue handprint_ across my face. 

Well, maybe he was worried I'd get it on his pillow the next time I got to biting it. Who fucking knew? This bastard was cracked as a whore was loose, that was all there was to it.

So I was on my own. And for now, so was he. But before I had any sort of plan worked out, I heard back from Hilary. 

_"Hey kid whats up sorry I aint wrote" is NOT a sentence, John!_ he scolded. It was the first damn thing he'd wrote, even before saying he hoped I was well. I laughed and missed him pretty bad. 

_Given that I do not know who might read this letter, I feel that I should keep my response to a minimum, excluding any comment on your potential profession and the dangers which accompany it and how you really should have told me sooner what you had planned. I am quite irritated with you, and more worried than you can know. That said, I would like to offer my most sincere congratulations, as well as thanks to your friend. He left something very nice for us, and I have kept it to show to you the next time we see each other, which I hope will be soon. Also, I did receive a letter from a gentleman about housing as your friend had promised, and I shall be going this afternoon to meet with someone about it. Are you sure that this is alright, John? I fear the expense. Please write back with all alacrity. I miss you terribly._

_Your devoted brother, Hilary  
_  
I sure didn't know what "alacrity" was, but I wrote him back right away. I used Amery's paper and Amery's ink, and told him thank you with the best of my good manners, and then left without so much as cocking my hips sexy-like. Then I stowed Hilary's letter in my dresser under the underwear I'd took from him. Wasn't no self-respecting man would find himself digging though another man's underthings, that was fact. This was the only letter anybody'd ever wrote me, and the only thing I had of my brother, and I wanted to keep it safe. 

Safety was a fucking _issue_ around this place. At night, I put a plate behind the door so as I'd hear it sliding over the floor and wake up if anyone tried slipping in and pulling another fast one on me. They were sneakier than Mollyrat thieves here, and twice as clever. But not as clever as me. When I heard that plate, I was up out of my bed with a knife in my hand so quick I almost caught the son-of-a. 

I had a pretty good idea it was Luvander, but no real proof. 

I wasn't the sort that needed proof, though. 

The next night, he went out on a raid. I knew because they have this sign-up sheet in the hall, and there was his name, big as life and too loopy by half for my tastes. When they called a raid, there was this bell that went off so loud it'd probably wake the dead. The first time I heard it, I just about died of shock, so that's how I knew. Pretty soon, that bell would ring for me and Havemercy, and I couldn't hardly wait, but right now it was just loud and annoying.

Anyway, the next night, Luvander went out, so I let myself into his room real quiet-like and went through his things. He had a dresser full of the most useless shit I'd ever saw. I opened the trap door that led down to his dragon, pulled out all his drawers, and dumped 'em down it. Then, seeing as how I liked the results so much, I went into the rooms of the other two that was out-- Ace and Evariste-- and dumped their shit, too.

They weren't too pleased. 

Neither was Amery.

I sat on his bed while he chewed me a new one, not really listening so much as thinking of the next thing I was going to do the other airmen. 'Cause it didn't end here. This was just the fucking _beginning_. My cheek was still fucking _blue_ , and that shit wasn't never coming out of my hair.

"John," Amery said, and snapped his fingers in front of my face. Didn't work out too well on account of him always wearing those fancy gloves of his. "Have you listened to a single word of what I've been saying to you?"

If I wasn't still pissed at him, I'd've said as how I was just watching his mouth move. I _was_ pissed though, so I told him, "They can't prove it was me, and even if they could, there ain't a hell of a lot they can do about it. All I got's my own person, and they sure as fuck ain't gonna dump _me_ down anywhere. Not unless they're wanting to meet with the business end of my knives, anyway."

"You are not invulnerable," he informed me. "And Ivory knows how to use a knife just as well as you do, I assure you."

"Yeah?" I asked. "Well tell him to bring it on. I ain't scared of him or nobody else. And I'll damn well say it to his face."

Amery shook his head and looked real uppity and disgusted, like I was a chunk of something he'd just scraped off the bottom of his boot. "I have no idea why I waste my breath on you. You are one of the most infuriatingly arrogant men I have ever met."

"Take a look in the mirror," I said, pretty annoyed, "'cause you ain't no fucking bed of roses yourself. Wake up and smell reality, would you?"

"I am doing this for your sake. For your _safety_. I cannot understand why you fail to grasp this, and in so doing, grace me with your horrifically brain-numbing mixed metaphors," he announced, like some official proclamation.

"Well, I'm real touched," I said. And so was he. Funny in the head-like. Meta- _what_?

Anyway, who cared? Not me. I up and left. Didn't put the moves on him, didn't say a word, just fucking _left_. He'd made his own bed, and now he was gonna have to lay in it. All by his lonesome.

My mistake was not wearing my boots to bed. It was a damn stupid thing to do. And it was even stupider to put my feet in 'em before looking inside. They were fucking _wet_. And it wasn't water, or even blue dye, that'd got put inside.

Somebody pissed in my boots. Some _no-good son of a_ _cock-sucking gutter whore_ had pissed. In. My. Boots. And they smelled like _piss_ , and so did my fucking _socks_ , and probably my feet too, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. 

Amery wasn't in his room. I didn't know where the fuck he'd went. I stole some clean socks. He had a couple extra pairs of boots over by the door, but they were so narrow I couldn't even get my feet into 'em. Fucking nobility.

Ghislain was in the showers-- I knew 'cause there was a sign-up sheet for that too, and his name was on it-- so I washed my boots out in the sink and dried the things with someone else's towel. But they still stank. Any Mollyrat could tell you how impossible it was to get that smell out of leather. That's why most of 'em reek like it every day of their sorry lives. Here and I'd thought I'd got myself away from all that. 

I wished I was back with Hilary. Nobody screwed with me there. And even if I smelled like piss, the girls' perfume would drown that out. They all but bathed in it. But I couldn't let my brother down, not now. And besides, how the fuck was I supposed to pen up a dragon in the Mollywastes?

That day, I must've drank about four gallons of water. The others had a few pairs of boots apiece, and they each lined one up on the mat by the door. Well, Merritt sort of threw his right where you walked so you tripped and nearly broke your neck every time you went past, but everyone _else's_ was lined up. Maybe I couldn't get every boot there, but I was damn well gonna give it my best shot. 

Amery wasn't scheduled for that night, so I went to see him right before I headed to bed. I figured I'd try to sleep until the bell rang for the raid, wait ten minutes, and then get to my work.

"You might want to get your boots away from the door," I told him, "if you're planning on ever wearing 'em again."

He was at his desk writing something and didn't look up. He held the pen over the paper and frowned. "I know exactly what you have in mind, and I guarantee that you do not want to do it."

"Don't seem like I got a whole lot of choice," I said. "If I wanted to stink like garbage, I'd've stayed in fucking Molly wallowing in it like the rest of 'em. But I ain't garbage. Hilary's brother ain't _garbage_ , and he ain't standing for this horseshit of people _pissing_ in his motherfucking _boots_!"

I was pretty angry. I shouted it pretty loud.

Amery sighed and put down his pen. He rubbed a palm across his face like I was making him tired. I figured he didn't have no right to it, seeing as how _his_ boots was nice and clean and dry. I looked at the one closest to me, all shiny and perfect, and wanted to spit on it. But that just would've made me feel worse.

"I may have a better idea," he said finally. "Come and find me before you begin, and we shall carry it out together."

I couldn't say if he was serious or just trying to stop me from extracting justice my way. Back in my room, I laid awake in my bed trying to decide if I should do what he said. At least it gave me something for a distraction, 'cause I had to piss pretty bad by then. I was just about gritting my teeth, eyeballs floating.

There wasn't a raid that night. Midnight came and went, and I was real tired of waiting, so I got up and knocked on Amery's door real quiet. It wasn't a second later when he opened it. 

"John," he whispered.

"Hurry it up," I told him, holding myself, "or I'm gonna fucking piss on your _floor_."

"Go and use the bathroom," he said. "Please. When you get back, I shall explain my plan, which is much less likely to get you lynched in the showers."

Well, I didn't like the idea of giving up before I'd even started, especially when I'd been holding it for so long. But being lynched sounded like a pretty bad idea too. Amery brushed past me, and before I could say anything, he ducked into Merritt's room. About three seconds later, he came out with his arms loaded with shiny black boots.

"Please go," he said.

By the time I'd pissed and got back feeling a _whole_ lot better, he must've had fifty pairs of boots in the hall. He told me to grab all the ones sitting out by the door, and I did, wondering what he had up his sleeve. Sneaky bastard, this one. 

"That's all of 'em," I whispered, adding those to the pile. "What do we do now?"

He nodded and cocked his head toward our boot mound. "We put them back."

I didn't get it.

Bending down, he picked up six boots, holding the tops between his fingers like trick cards. He had pretty big hands. Wide like mine, but with long, slender fingers. "Take these. Go to the end of the hall and put them in Niall's room," he told me.

I stared at the boots. Only the emergency lights were on-- those were always on-- and they cast a reddish glow on the black leather. "But those ain't Niall's," I said. "None of those even fucking _match_." It was true. One of 'em was big enough to be Ghislain's, another small enough to be Raphael's, and the other four were all right feet. Matter of fact, they were _all_ of 'em right feet.

"That is rather the point," Amery told me, and thrust the boots into my hands. He sorted through the pile, pulled out six left feet of all different sizes, one with the sole falling off, and set them aside. "Quickly, John."

Not quite my style, but it wasn't bad. The others were sure to be real annoyed when they woke up and figured out they didn't have a single pair of their own boots. Fuck, he'd even ganked _Adamo's_! The man had balls, that was for damn sure. 'Course I knew that already, seeing as how I'd had my mouth on 'em more than once.

When we got done filling everyone's room with everyone else's boots, we had about a dozen left. Who the fuck needed that many boots when all they had was two damn feet? Amery was gonna set the extras up by the door, but I nixed that idea.

"Hide 'em," I whispered. 

He looked at me for a minute, eyes glittering with something that had my stomach turning funny, and nodded. "Yes. Thank you," he said. And smiled.

I could've went down on my knees and blew him right there. But he'd been late on helping me, so I couldn't see as how he should be back in my good graces just like that. There was a way to treat a man proper and respectful-like and a way to be a self-serving asshole and really piss him off, and it seemed like it was up to me to show him the difference. Anyway, somebody would've heard. 

The next morning was about as good as I hoped for. Ivory was cursing up a storm, Niall was whining to Jeannot like a spoiled little bitch, Compagnon was laughing his ass off, and Adamo was _screaming_ pissed. 

"Wasn't me," I said when his screaming turned my way.

"Who the fuck else would've done it?" he demanded.

I shrugged, relaxed as anything. "How the fuck should I know? I don't even know half these whoresons' names."

"If you don't know anything about it, why are you the only one with a matching pair of boots on his feet?" Ace demanded. He had the morning off and was supposed to go see some lady friend of his, but he sure couldn't do it in his socks. I figured it wasn't any sort of big loss, seeing as how any woman that wanted to meet up with an idiot like Ace wasn't much worth seeing anyway.

"Maybe nobody felt like stealing 'em, considering how they smell like piss," I told him, real smooth. "But I guess you wouldn't know nothing about _that_ stunt, would you?"

He looked like he wanted to bite.

So did Adamo. He opened his mouth to really let me have it, and I was sure I was on dog rations for the next year, when Raphael started screaming. His voice was so high, he sounded like a perturbed whore. 

"Bastion damn you, you sons of _swine_! My boots are not _waste receptacles_!" he screeched. Then there was this loud clang, a dull thud, and somebody bellowing like his hair was on fire. Maybe it was.

"Shit," Adamo swore, and took off down the hall.

I shrugged. Wasn't my problem.

Amery and Ghislain were sitting in the kitchen, both of 'em in stocking feet. Ghislain nodded when I walked in, but it seemed like Amery was only interested in his coffee. If he didn't get just the right amount of cream in it, the inner workings of the earth would probably grind to a halt like a watch when you'd forgot to wind it. Would that happen to Havemercy if she ran out of fuel? It wasn't a real comforting thought.

I rooted through the icer for some eggs to scramble, careful not to uncover the boot I'd hid behind the lettuce. I hoped it was Ace's. "You two don't seem too concerned about your footwear," I said, and grabbed a frying pan that looked mostly clean.

"They'll turn up eventually," Ghislain shrugged, like he didn't have a care in the world. "Nice trick, by the way. Very original."

"Don't know why everyone thinks it was me," I told him. "I'd've tossed the damn things out the window."

He thought about that and then nodded. "Does seem more like your style," he agreed.

"Damn straight," I told him.

"What in bastion's name are you doing to those eggs?" Amery demanded.

I looked down at the pan and the burbling mess of yellow and white in it and couldn't see the problem. "Scrambling 'em," I said.

"What did you put in them?" he asked.

"They're scrambled eggs," I told him. "You put _eggs_ in 'em."

Something about that was real offensive to his sensibilities, and he came over to take a look. "Your coffee's gonna get cold," I said. He'd left it over on the table.

"I'll make more," he told me. His nose wrinkled as he prodded my eggs with the spatula. I'd've figured he thought this sort of thing was women's work, but I guess not. He looked funny cooking with gloves on, and I grinned. 

Before I could stop him, he'd dumped the whole panful of scrambled eggs into the trash.

"Hey!" I protested, smile knocked right off my face. "The fuck are you doing? That was my _breakfast_!"

"I think not," he said, and opened a cabinet door. He came back out with a cheese grater, a mixing bowl, and someone's dirty boot. The grater and bowl went on the cupboard, and the boot went into the trash bin on top of my eggs.

"I think that was Merritt's," Ghislain said. He was drinking Amery's coffee.

"This place is like a fucking circus, you know that?" I said.

Luvander was walking past just then, clomping around in someone else's too-big boots. He stuck his head into the kitchen to announce, "Bring on the performing monkeys!" 

I figured he pretty much made my point.

"Stop complaining and start grating," Amery ordered, and handed me a block of cheese. "I am about to demonstrate the _proper_ method of scrambled egg preparation. You will thank me when you have tasted the finished product."

I tossed the cheese into the air a few times, trying to decide if I felt like doing what he wanted. Blindly obeying was against my personal principles, but he'd did pretty good last night. And I _was_ pretty hungry. "Your 'finished product' really that good?" I asked.

"Mouthwatering," he answered, cracking an egg.

Ghislain snorted into his-- well, technically _Amery's_ \-- coffee. "That's what the all girls at Our Lady say. Right, Amery?"

I threw him a dirty look. It was about all I _could_ throw at him, seeing as how he could probably break my neck with a flick of his wrist. The more I looked at the son-of-a, the bigger he seemed. Amery was ignoring him, but I knew he didn't like being talked to that way. Unless I was the one doing the talking, of course. I could finish his product better than any stupid whore, so _I_ was allowed.

Amery made a mean batch of scrambled eggs, no lie. Ghislain and me sat eating 'em while our impromptu chef fixed himself a new cup of coffee. I liked watching his hands move as he stirred in the sugar. Food's the way to a man's heart, ain't that what they say? Well, it's true. I wasn't angry no more and didn't see as how I ever _had_ been. Amery was who he was, that's all. Like they say, you can't turn a whore into a housewife. And anyway, it wasn't _his_ fault the rest of the Dragon Corps was bastards.

And there was only one thing to do about it.

*****

I didn't know why Amery's room was always unlocked. He was the most unsociable bastard I ever met, and he sure didn't welcome company. But I wasn't complaining, seeing as how it did make things so much easier. Picking locks wasn't nothing new to me, but it wasn't that easy doing it in the dark. 

Once I was in, I closed the door and turned the lock, taking a minute to let my eyes adjust to the dimness of his room before I headed in. The only light was coming from his window, and it streamed onto his desk, coloring it a murky white. It almost matched Ivory. Almost matched the whites of Amery's eyes too. He was looking across at me through the dark.

"Hey," I said.

His eyes closed, and he rolled to face the wall.

"I couldn't sleep," I lied, and pulled back the covers. He didn't put his arm around me or nothing, just kept facing the wall. Didn't say a damn word. It was like he didn't want me there, but I knew the truth. I settled in next to him, my front to his back, 'til we were close as two tits in a corset. I could feel his heartbeat, _ba-dump ba-dump_ in his chest.

I whispered, "You miss me?"

He kept right on not saying nothing, and I smoothed my hand over his shoulder. My head was on the pillow beside his, and his hair tickled my nose. That close, I could smell that scent I'd liked before, those times when I'd been down on my knees. It smelled real good, thick in the air with his skin all warm from sleep. I pressed my lips to the back of his neck.

When I reached 'round to his front, he was hard as stone. I was guessing he knew just how I was planning on doing him ever since the minute I walked in. Maybe he was even dreaming about me. He was already feeling wet through his pajamas. 

"Yeah, you missed me _real_ bad, didn't you?" I whispered against his skin.

He kept quiet as I slipped my hand in past his waistband, but I felt him shiver. He was trying to play it cool, but he wasn't fooling me one bit; matter of fact, I could've laughed at how obvious he was. But I hadn't seen no action in a long fucking time-- hadn't even caught me a _glimpse_ of a breast-- so I was kind of caught up in the feel I was getting off him. The laugh stuck in my throat.

I didn't know if what Ghislain had said about Amery and the girls at Our Lady was true, but it popped into my brain right then. He'd make 'em scream, that was for sure. You could tell just by the feel of his cock, the way it filled up your hand and how he moved. I imagined him with some fancy whore wrapped 'round his waist, all soft skin and sweet perfumes, and stroked him so rough I made him gasp.

He shifted like he was gonna pull away, but if he thought I was letting him go, he had another thing coming. I reached my free arm underneath him and pulled him up so as he was half on top of me, his neck turned just right for me to press my mouth against. His breath caught, and I knew I was doing him just how he wanted. I always knew.

It was pretty close to what I wanted, too. Maybe he wasn't a woman, but somehow I didn't mind. His backside fit right against the curve of my hips, solid and sleek with muscle the way a woman's wasn't, but it felt good. Made me think of flying, the hard lines and sheer masculine rush of it, and there wasn't nothing that made me think of flying I couldn't see my way toward liking.

I wondered if he felt it too, if his blood was pounding through his veins and tingling sort of, like mine was. I ran my tongue up his neck and reached out for his hand. My fingers slid against the smooth, warm skin of his wrist, then the calluses on his palm. He pulled his arm away. 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He didn't say nothing. Maybe he hadn't noticed what I was doing. Maybe he was too distracted, seeing as how I hadn't let up on him down below, working him just right, hard and fast. Or maybe he just didn't want to be touching me none without his gloves on. I bet he never touched a Mollyrat with his bare hands before. I'd contaminate him for sure. 

Not wanting to think about it, I reached up and found his jaw, his stubble scratching against my skin, and slid my fingers in his mouth.

I figured he'd bite. If I was him, _I_ would've.

He didn't. Didn't seem like he minded my fingers being there at all. Matter of fact, after a second he started sucking on 'em, steady as a babe at the teat. His mouth was warm and soft, and his tongue slick as it rubbed against my fingertips. He got this rhythm going, doing it right in time with how I was pumping on him down below. My fingers down there were real warm and starting to get as wet as the ones further up. 

Even if cindy crap like this didn't do it for me, I couldn't help being pretty turned on. Any man would be, with a mouth like _that_ wrapped around him, no matter where on his person it'd got put. Didn't take any sort of imagination to think of it somewhere else lower down, licking and sucking and driving a body to abandon. And my airman was kind of moving his hips back against me too, rubbing against things that was getting more and more interested in the proceedings. 

Who could blame me for liking it? 

No one, that's who.

So seeing as how it was only natural, I started moving my hips against his. Not that much-- just enough so as it felt nice. Sent these little shivers up and down me, like. His ear was right next to my mouth, and I took the lobe between my lips, sucking it like he was doing my fingers. He made this sort of moan, and I could feel it all the way through my hand and down my wrist. I pulled my fingers out, just a little, and pushed 'em back in.

He sucked 'em back up, hungry for it like it really _was_ my cock he'd got his lips around.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" I whispered into his ear. "Big, bad airman likes his mouth stuffed full by some other body, huh?"

I felt his cock jerk in my grasp. Yeah, he got off on filthy talk. I should've figured. The fancy ones always did, though they wouldn't admit it.

I licked my lips and ran my tongue along the rim of his ear. "Know what would happen if I slid your pants down right now, airman? You can feel it, can't you? Feel how close I am to giving it to you?"

And that did him in right then and there. His teeth bit into my fingers, hips thrust forward, and he filled my palm with almost more than I could hold. It leaked out between my fingers, hot against my skin. Bastion, he was so fucking _easy_. 

'Course, I was damn good too, and I wasn't about to let him forget it. I gave him one last nip on the earlobe, pulled my fingers out of his mouth, and wiped both my hands on his sheet. 

"Hey," I said. "You gonna keep ignoring me, or you gonna turn around and face me proper-like?"

He sighed, sounding pretty content, and rolled over. He was nice and warm against me, comfortable-like even if he didn't wrap his arm around my middle like he should've. What the fuck was I thinking, keeping away from him all this time? It was like cutting off your nose to spite your face. But we were all stupid fucks sometimes. That was just _life_ , you know?

"I shouldn't've made you wait so long," I said. "It won't happen again."

"I cannot sleep with someone else in my bed," he answered.

The first time he opens his mouth all night without it being latched around my fingers, and _that's_ what comes out. His parents had never taught him his manners proper, I guess. "Hilary and me," I said, "we always used to get close like this on cold nights. Even through his socks, his feet were always fucking freezing. I never thought I'd miss sharing a smelly old mattress with a kid that's got icicles for toes, you know?" 

"Hilary and _I_ ," he corrected. He'd never made an issue of my wording before now, and it made me miss my brother even more. "Have you really killed men before? With those knives of yours?"

"Not any as wasn't asking for it," I told him. Didn't know why he wanted to know about _that_. Maybe it was because he could still feel I had my knives on my body and didn't like how I slept with 'em strapped to me. Or maybe it was something else hard and stiff down there he only _thought_ was a knife. 

"And that means that they deserved it, then. Because they were _asking for it_ ," he said.

I ran my tongue over my lips, wetting 'em. They were dry from so much time up in the air. My whole face was sunburned on account of me going up during the day instead of at night like the others. I pressed up against the side of Amery's neck. "Tell me _you_ ain't never killed a man, and I'll tell you you're a damn liar." His skin was so fucking soft. 

He heaved a sigh. "I have no desire to play these games anymore, John. I never wanted to in the first place. I had thought that we'd finished, and I was quite relieved at that notion."

"What games?" I asked. "I ain't playing at nothing." And I ran my tongue down his neck. His whole body jerked.

"You need to leave," he bit out, voice like steel.

I didn't feel as I was needing anything of the sort. In fact, when you got right down to it, leaving was about the last thing I needed to do. For either of our sakes. "I won't stay away so long again," I told him. "You got my word on it. That was a pretty asshole thing to do, and you didn't deserve it. I'll make it up to you."

To show I meant it, and all this was in good faith and everything, I got up off the bed. The room was cold and smelled like metal, bitter and hard and impersonal. I'd got pretty used to the smell and didn't much notice it anymore, but I did now. I hated it.

Amery pulled the covers in tight around his neck. "We should not do this anymore," he murmured.

But he had it wrong. The problem was not doing it _enough_ , that was what fucked things up. Not getting what you needed was what finished you off in the end, whether it was enough food or clothes or money or fucking, or whatever. We all needed what we needed. And he needed _me_. That was just the way things _was_.

"Which way do you like it best?" I asked, trying to keep the shiver out of my voice. This room was so damn cold, I was pretty sure if I spat, it'd freeze before it hit the ground. "You like how I did you tonight? Or is it better with my mouth? Or when you're over me, with your arms around my chest so you can feel me move-- is that one your favorite?" 

He shifted under his blankets, pulling his knees up to curl into this little ball. I could see it even in the dark. He looked as cold and alone as I felt. 

After what seemed like forever, he answered, "So long as it's you."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

I rocked back on my heels and surveyed our work. We'd made a pretty neat job of it, all things considered. The whole kitchen was covered, floor to ceiling, like wallpaper. We even plastered the fronts of the cabinets with 'em, and stuck one on the faucet. The way the draft got it fluttering made it look like the lady was wiggling her backside at me.

"Yours are crooked," Amery whispered.

"They ain't," I told him. 

"They _are_ ," he insisted, and pointed. "Do you not see how badly that one is tilted? That poor young woman is about to fall off of her couch."

"Don't see how that's my fault," I said, keeping my voice low. "She shouldn't've got herself into that position in the first place. Any fool could tell her there ain't nobody can keep from falling off a couch with their legs that far over their head. It's common fucking _sense_."

"Perhaps she was distracted by the rather athletic and anatomically improbable orgiastic goings-on to her right," he offered.

"Well, she ain't the only one," I admitted. He was trying pretty hard not to crack a smile, and when I grinned at him, he coughed into his hand to hide it. I raised my finger to my lips to shush him 'cause I wasn't ready to give the others a peek at our handiwork quite yet. They were all sleeping comfy and cozy in their beds, none of 'em expecting the scene they'd wake up to. It wouldn't have the same effect if they saw it before the sun rose.

"Compagnon may kill you," Amery told me.

"Nah," I said. "He'll be too busy laughing himself sick."

He nodded and dropped what was left of the glue into the waste bin. "For your sake, I do hope so." 

My grin widened, 'cause how could it not? I wasn't in any sort of trouble. All we'd did was find a better way to display Compagnon's personal collection. He owned more indecent imprints than anybody in the whole of Thremedon-- maybe the whole fucking _world_ \-- and he was damn proud of it. Why would showing it off get him angry? 

Of course I _had_ broke into his room and picked the lock on his cabinet, but that wasn't hardly the point. The _point_ was that me and Amery made a real good team as far as getting even went. We'd got everybody good and pissed after the whole boot thing, and of course all the blame fell on me. They did some useless horseshit like shortsheeting my bed and coating my flying goggles with grease. I didn't let none of it get to me. Like they say, paybacks are hell, and coming from Molly, I knew more than a little about what hell was like.

I would've done the sons-of-a a whole lot nastier without Amery around, too. He had some real good ideas-- like this one-- that didn't cause near so much bodily harm as mine would've. None of 'em even involved knives. 

What they _did_ involve was pretty damn inspiring. Compagnon had some real nice pieces in his collection, that was for fucking sure. Some of 'em was even Ke-Han-- these real exotic looking girls with fancy braids and flowered robes that opened up to show something _real_ nice inside. It almost made me feel bad I was training up to kill the slanty-eyed bastards. As far as I could see, anybody that could carve a piece of wood into a shape that got me that hot was someone I could see my way toward getting along with.

"We should go back to sleep," Amery said.

"Yeah, we should," I told him, somehow managing to pull my eyes away from the best damn art exhibit in the history of Miranda to throw him a look. "But are we gonna?"

He sighed. "John…"

I chuckled and headed toward my room. "See you tomorrow, airman."

It wasn't a lie; I would if I could swing it. How I'd held out on him before was real wrong, and I was making damn sure I did him right from now on. Any time I wasn't in the air and could slip into his room without nobody seeing, I was making him moan and shudder and gasp out my name. I guess it was about three or four times a week. Maybe more. I lost count.

Seeing as how he didn't care one way or the other, I switched things up. Whichever way I felt like doing him, that was what I did. If I'd been thinking on it a while, I'd work myself nice and smooth with that salve and bend myself over his bed. Or his desk. And one time the chair, though it wasn't too comfortable on my ribs, and I decided not to try that one again. 

But sometimes I'd be just walking down the hall or eating in the mess-- or thinking on how bad I wanted to punch every man jack of these Dragon Corps bastards' _faces_ in, bash open their skulls, and dance in the grey matter-- and I'd get this itch. Them times, I'd duck into his room and suck him off good and hard. He was pretty much always there, in his room. He didn't mix with the others too much. 

I'd've said I was going cindy over this whole thing, excepting how it was always him that was getting his rocks off, not me. It was real rare I found myself at more than half-mast, and I didn't start in on nothing that would push me past that point. Kept my fingers clear of his mouth and all. Sometimes if the mood grabbed hold of me, I'd bring myself off afterwards in private. But it usually didn't. It wasn't about that.

"I must admit that I still fail to comprehend your motivation," Amery told me this one time. 

We'd just did it across the sill, with the window cracked open so as I could feel the cool breeze on my skin. It was almost like I was up on my girl. I liked it a lot. 

I'd left an impression in his screen the size of my hand, from where I'd pressed up against it. I liked _that_ too.

Amery didn't like none of it at first, but the Airman was high enough up so as nobody could see, and I'd got pretty good at convincing him of my way of thinking. Wasn't too tough. He was a sucker for seeing me use my own fingers. He could only watch about a minute before he was pulling 'em away and putting his own self in.

"Don't seem like what you do and don't comprehend is my problem," I said, as I did up my pants. He was sitting on the edge of his bed looking like the picture of innocence, long as you didn't think too much on why his face was so red.

"I have no desire for you to feel that I am unappreciative of your…" he paused, "well, you are entirely aware of my feelings on the matter." 

"You make it pretty clear," I told him.

He nodded and fussed with one of the buttons on his sleeve. No matter what we did, his clothes always stayed on. I couldn't decide if it bothered me or not. "Do you never wish for any sort of… reciprocation on my part?"

I gave that one some thought. For about a half a second. "Nope."

He frowned and said, "Though you've made it clear that you act of your own free will and not on account of any sort of obligation, I cannot help but think that you might more thoroughly… appreciate the situation if it brought you the sort of pleasure that it brought me. Is this not accurate?"

"Look, I don't feel like talking about it," I said. 'Cause I didn't.

"This is not to press the issue," he added, "only to make the offer. If ever you _do_ feel like talking about it--"

"I won't," I told him. 'Cause I _wouldn't_.

"Ah," he said. "Well, then."

There wasn't no point in talking. I wasn't interested in "reciprocation" any how, any way. The only sort of pleasuring I was looking to get myself was the kind that came with perfume and tits, and soft thighs wrapped around my waist. But I didn't much feel like telling him what a gigantic Cindy he was. Didn't seem fair. And if I did, he might make me give back his underwear, and it'd be a celibate day on Hapenny before _that_ happened. Them things were real cozy.

"What I _do_ want to talk about," I said, 'cause the room had filled up with this real tense silence, "is this whole Basquiat Day thing. I was thinking I'd take Hilary around some, see the sights or whatever since I got the night off and ain't seen him in fucking forever. Not sure what there is to do around here, though. On holidays in Molly, everyone just gets drunk and fucks."

"Yes," he answered, relaxing some. "Of course. Due to the fact that you are not yet on active duty, you are, as the Chief Sergeant mentioned, free to do as you please during the celebration. If you prefer a slightly more wholesome pursuit than drinking yourself into oblivion, I would suggest attending the parade, which takes place at midday, frequenting the vendors set up along the route, and watching the fireworks at dusk."

"Yeah? What're _you_ doing?" I asked. 

The Chief Sergeant had set up this lottery system for the Corps seeing as how there had to be a certain number of 'em on duty at all times, and they all wanted Basquiat Day off. Amery's name had got pulled, and even though Raphael begged him to switch in this whiny little falsetto, he wouldn't. When I asked Raphael what the big yank was, he started to talk about "patriotic fervor" and "uterine proclivities" and a bunch of other shit I didn't half understand.

Magoughin told me what he meant was, "The fireworks gets the girls all wet." That sounded pretty fucking alright to me, but I was guessing it wasn't what Amery had in mind, so that's why I figured I'd ask.

He answered, "I shall be dining at Reliquary and watching the fireworks with my brother."

"You got a brother?" I asked. It was news to me. I figured if he had family around, he'd've mentioned it before now. It struck me as kind of strange. "How old is he?"

He shrugged. "About the same age as yours. He lives with the rest of my family at our country estate. I rarely see him."

"Huh," I said. "Guess you're looking forward to him coming, then."

"Not particularly," he told me, real casual-like. "It is not that I am indifferent towards him, but with so great an age difference between us, we have little in common and even less to say to each other. I find the entire ordeal to be a rather inventive brand of torture devised by my mother and perpetrated under the guise of bettering familial relations, when what she really wishes is for me to feel guilty for not writing more often. If my brother did not so look up to me, I would discontinue even these infrequent meetings."

"Huh. Well, maybe the four of us could all go together, like in a group. Our brothers could keep each other company or whatever," I offered. "Maybe we could have a drink or two. Shoot the breeze or something."

He frowned. "I highly doubt that the two of them would get along. My brother is rather… delicate."

"Delicate? Like, he's sickly or something?" I asked. I couldn't imagine it.

"No, I have never known him to be ill. It is his sensitivities which require a certain amount of care," he told me. "My mother shelters him quite badly, and I fear that if he were exposed to a situation with which he was uncomfortable, he may become quite--"

"So what you're saying," I cut him off, "is how you think being around a kid raised in a whorehouse in the Mollywastes would be too much for him. You're afraid Hilary might not talk right, or sit in his chair proper-like, or crease his trousers right straight down the--"

"That is not at all what I was implying," he said.

"--right _straight down the center_ ," I repeated, all but fucking _steaming_ , "and bastion forbid he contaminate your sensitive little shit of a sibling. That about cover it?"

"Do _not_ ," he said, sitting up straighter on the mattress, eyes drilling into mine, "speak to me in that manner. My brother is reticent and prone to nervous habits, and meeting unfamiliar people makes him terribly uncomfortable. I am sure that Hilary is quite a personable young man, but Balfour is not, and I see no reason to make both of them-- and _us_ \-- miserable."

"So it's best if the two of you are miserable on your own," I answered, not believing him for one fucking instant. "That makes a whole lot more sense." 

"Why do _you_ care?" he demanded.

"I don't," I said. "Only you ain't being fair to my brother, and I don't like it one fucking bit. Hilary's a real proper kid, and he ain't gonna offend nobody. You go and judge him because of me, thinking we're the same, but we _ain't_. He's gonna study at the 'Versity and read a million romans and turn himself into some real important body, you just fucking _wait_."

"I told you," he insisted, "it has nothing to do with your brother. There is no need for such defensive behavior."

"Oh yeah? Is it me, then?" I asked. "You don't want your brother picking up on how we do it on Hapenny? Afraid I'll learn him a few tricks of the trade?"

"You disgust me," he announced.

I walked over and sat down beside him on his bed. I'd never figure out how he could be a real considerate person one minute and a total jackass the next. If only it was physically possible to give him head and kick him in the ass at the same time, I'd do it. 

"Look, maybe it's a bad idea," I said, "but I was just thinking we could do something with our clothes on for once. Something more 'wholesome,' like you put it. Friendly-like. But if that ain't something you're interested in, I can understand."

He went all quiet for a minute, back to messing with his button. "I presumed that you would not be interested in such a thing."

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.

Truth be told, I wasn't. I just wanted to guilt him into taking me and Hilary with him. Didn't even know why I wanted it so bad. It wasn't like Hilary and me couldn't find a little amusement on our own. We'd always did fine before. But now as I'd got the idea in my head, it was stuck up in there the way I'd got the reins stuck in one of Havemercy's gears one time and nearly drove her into one of the domes of the Basquiat. Yeah, Adamo wasn't none too happy about _that_ one!

Maybe Amery's brother was a snot-nosed little shit, or maybe he was a sniveling halfwit. Maybe Hilary would hate him, and he'd hate Hilary. I didn't care. All I wanted was that Hilary didn't get wrote off just like that. He deserved a fucking _chance_. We all did. And maybe, just _maybe_ the two boys would hit it off, and Hilary would make a friend. The poor kid could use it, that was for sure. 

He'd found himself some place by the 'Versity and had wrote me how nice it was and how much more everything cost now as he was out of Molly. He sent me a detailed list of everything he'd bought and how much he spent down to the last hapenny, like money mattered anymore with what I was pulling in. I think he just liked keeping track of fussy little stuff like that. It made him happy. And when Hilary was happy, _I_ was happy.

But he didn't know fucking _nobody_ here yet, and with how social he was, I was feeling a little worried. Finding a friend-- and a rich one at that-- would do him some real good, 'specially seeing as how we wouldn't be together too often from here on out. Fuck, I hadn't even seen the kid in damn near two months!

Amery stood up and made his way to his desk. "I shall write to Balfour," he said. "You should leave now."

So that's how I ended up spending Basquiat Day with Hilary and Amery and Amery's twitchy little brother. He was this awkward thing that wasn't half Amery's size and had about as much personality in his whole body as Hilary did in his pinkie finger. He didn't look much like his brother either. His hair was the same color as Amery's, but it didn't have the nice wave to it, and his face was sort of pinched-like and girlish. I could see what my airman had meant by "delicate."

I thought at first it was gonna be some sort of nightmare, and I should've stuck with the usual drinking and fucking. All the kid did was tug at his gloves and scuff his feet on the ground and make me feel real anxious and a little like strangling him. Even Hilary felt awkward around him, I could tell. His shirt was new and real nice, but the sleeves were a little long 'cause he'd bought the thing big so as he could grow into it. He kept tugging at the fabric all self-conscious-like on account of how fancy Balfour's clothes were. 

What kind of a fucking stupid name was _Balfour_ , anyway? Why couldn't his parents have gave him a nice, normal name like _Thomas_ or something? No wonder the kid had problems. 

I'd helped myself to one of Amery's jackets on account of how wearing our uniforms off duty wasn't allowed. It was the nice wool one he'd had on that time when I'd blew him in the alley. The fabric pulled too tight across the shoulders, and it was too warm in the afternoon sun. If everybody hadn't been all antsy about their clothing already, I'd've took it off. 

"Shall we make our way to the parade route?" Amery asked, throwing me a look like he'd knew the whole time this was gonna happen, and it was all my fault.

I shrugged and acted like everything was just fine and fucking dandy. "Guess we better find us a good spot."

We were all pretty quiet except Hilary, who kept trying to make Balfour act more like a human being and less like a cold fish. He'd start in on all sorts of different things-- the city, the parade, dragons, card games-- but Balfour wouldn't bite. The whole thing was really getting on my nerves. Then Hilary said something about some roman he'd read, and the kid's face lit up.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I simply _adore_ Edgeford's works!"

"He has _such_ a way with words, don't you think?" Hilary agreed.

Then Balfour started chattering away like a magpie about something that got Hilary real excited, and all of a sudden it was like they been best friends their whole damn lives, two peas in a pod. Just like that, Hilary was laughing like a crazy, and Balfour was waving and clapping his hands together like a schoolgirl. After a couple of minutes, Balfour hooked his wrist around Hilary's elbow, and they walked arm-in-arm down the street. They wove through the crowds in front of us, all smiles and laughs, and I grinned at Amery.

"Told you it'd work out," I said. 

He looked confused.

I laughed and pretended to clap my hands together like his brother, and then linked my arm through his. His legs were longer than mine, and it was kind of hard to walk that close beside him. It was hot too, and sweat dripped down between my shoulder blades. I didn't let go.

Amery seemed happy. At least I think he did; I hadn't never seen him happy before. It was a pretty nice change. I was happy too, seeing as how my plan had worked out and everyone was having a decent time, 'specially Hilary. And I felt pretty good about how people looked at Amery and me, admiring-like.

After a minute, Amery gave me this look and then shook his head. 

"What?" I asked.

"You need a haircut," he said.

"Fuck you," I grinned, and pulled him in a little closer.

The parade was pretty stupid, just a bunch of idiots blowing horns and beating drums and raising their knees up real high. But the boys liked it, and Amery liked that they liked it, and I liked the good mood it was keeping him in. The food afterwards was good too. We didn't go to no fancy restaurant like Amery'd had planned, just bought stuff from the vendors on the street. It was my kind of food, real filling and greasy enough so as it slicked everything real good on the way down.

It turned out when you got Balfour going, he could talk the hind leg off a mule, and the only way to shut him up was to fill his mouth with something other than words. He didn't mind taking his gloves off to eat, and Hilary got a real kick out of watching somebody so fancy licking sausage juice off his fingers. It surprised me some considering how uptight his brother was about being proper. It was pretty screwed up how I could trace every vein in Amery's cock with my eyes closed, but I had no idea how close he trimmed his fingernails.

Then again, what the fuck did I care about his fingernails?

There was about a million people packed into the city today, but we managed to get us a prime spot for watching the fireworks by climbing up on the roof of the place where Hilary was staying at. He'd got himself a room in this big old house with a spiral staircase and three foreign 'Versity students that talked like chickens clucking. Farm animal noises aside, it seemed like a decent place, and I was real happy with how neat and clean it was. Anybody saw my brother here, they'd never guess he'd came from the Mollywastes. Until they met _me_ , anyway.

The roommates had went out whoring, so we were all alone up there on the roof, just the four of us, with a perfect view of the sky. The sun was creeping down behind the horizon, and it looked real pretty, all orange and gold and red like dragonfire. I'd finally figured out that mechanism on Have-- I called her that now, _Have_ \-- that ignited her gasoline, so I knew it firsthand. She liked it a lot, the way we turned our targets to a brilliant, blinding crimson, then smoke and ash. It was too bad she wasn't here.

Was it screwed up to want to watch fireworks with a dragon?

Anyway, I was working my way through a bottle of something mildly alcoholic, feeling pretty good about life in general as I listened to Hilary and Balfour talking crazy about philosophy. Exista-something. Didn't make a lick of sense to me. They were sitting beside me and Amery, leaning against the frame of the window we'd climbed through to get ourselves out here. Like most buildings in Miranda, the roofline was all funny, all peaks and plains and tricky little valleys. Here it was almost like a porch, with fancy iron lattice like a fence at the bottom.

"Hey, Hilary," I said, interrupting his crazy talk. I held out my bottle. "You want some?"

He looked at it and shrugged. "I suppose," he agreed, and took it.

Balfour looked impressed. "Could I have some too?" he asked. "Just a sip?"

"Ask your brother," I told him, 'cause I sure as bastion wasn't gonna get my ass chewed for corrupting the kid or some elitist horseshit like that. Drinking age in Volstov was sixteen.

"Just a sip? Please, Amery? _Please?_ " he begged.

"You are thirteen years old. Since when do thirteen-year-olds drink alcohol?" he asked. 

"I'm _fourteen_!" Balfour corrected, looking real hurt.

"Ah," said Amery. "How terribly forgetful of me. Go ahead then, by all means. Just be sure not to let mother find out, or she won't allow you out of her sight until you're forty." He waved his hand like he couldn't care less, and I wondered if he was embarrassed for not even knowing how old his own brother was.

Balfour grinned. 

"I have a distinct premonition that you will dislike it," Hilary told him as he put the bottle to his lips.

Balfour took a swig, and made a face. "It's bitter!" he announced. He gave the label a sideways glare like it'd just called him a nasty name, shrugged, and took another sip.

Beside me, Amery sighed.

Just then the sky lit up, and this huge BOOM filled my ears. Balfour's eyes got wide as saucers, and he shoved the liquor back into my hands. Down below, the people started cheering. The show was about to start.

"Well, that's the signal. Why don't you two young men go down by the eaves for a better look?" Amery told the boys.

"Oh, I do so _love_ fireworks!" Balfour proclaimed. Him and Hilary scooted down, their shoes making scuffing noises against the shingles.

"Mind you stay on this side of the railing, Balfour," Amery warned. "And no dangling your feet over the side or doing anything else reckless. Not all of these old buildings are architecturally sound, and I don't want you falling and cracking your head open on the pavement."

"You too, Hilary," I called, even though if I was sitting down there next to him, I'd've sure as fuck been dangling my feet.

I hadn't never watched the fireworks from this close up before. They were so big and so loud, it was like they were sparking to life right in front of you, and if you reached out, you could snatch up a piece of one the way Hilary used to grab at fireflies. You could see the show from Molly, but off in the distance-like, real small and far away, like everything else about Miranda with its expensive shops and reputations washed as white as the walls. 

"Oh, look! Look at _that_ one!" Balfour cried, and pointed up in the sky like we hadn't all of us saw it clear as day already. But Hilary made this happy noise and pointed up at the next one. It streaked across the night sky like a comet come to earth. 

Well, I guess I was alright with the whole thing as long as Hilary didn't try to eat one. He'd always did that with the fireflies and ended up with fucking glow-in-the-dark teeth. It scared the wits out of Madam.

As the fireworks got going full-swing, the crowd below _ooh_ ing and _aah_ ing, Amery settled in beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. His gloves glowed spotless white in the dark. "Your brother is a remarkably genteel young man," he said. "He is possessed of a maturity well beyond his years." 

I shrugged, feeling pretty proud but trying not to show it too much. "Well, I don't know nothing about _genteel_. But I told you he's a good kid."

"Mm," Amery agreed. "Though I do have to question his taste in literature. Gerard Edgeford writes with all the sentimental trappings of a prepubescent girl. And even more adverbs. His poetry renders me fairly nauseous."

I sure didn't know nothing about trappings or adverbs, and the only poetry I'd ever learned was the sort you could sing along with Gin's piano playing. I wondered how that old bastard was. "Balfour's a nice kid," I told Amery. "Don't see why you don't wanna meet up with him."

"He seems to have grown up quite a bit since last we were together. I have never before found him in the least personable, yet he seems to be holding himself with a certain poise now, albeit adolescent. But then, I suppose that I have simply never had much use for children," Amery admitted. "I tend to feel ill at ease among them."

I laughed. "What, you? Mister-fucking-Society-Page his own _self_?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Amusing. And I suppose that you would be the editor of said society page? But I must say that you are mistaken if you believe that your brother is nothing like you, John. He is very _much_ like you. It seems only that your stunning blond hair has been exchanged for stunningly good manners."

I snorted. "And grammar. Don't forget the grammar."

"Yes," he agreed. "Grammar. Must you hold that bottle in such a fashion?"

I didn't notice it 'til he said something 'cause my mind was sort of somewhere else, but I guess I _was_ sort of sucking on it. 'Course it was something _Amery_ would notice, though.

"Jealous?" I asked, and grinned.

"Thirsty," he lied.

I handed the bottle over and watched as he sipped on it. The way his lips wrapped around the neck had me feeling real warm inside. I guess it got me thinking about that night we first met, when we shared the wine and talked about Have on that old red fainting couch. That was what started it all: the temptation of dragons and lips around a whorehouse wine bottle. 

Had it really only been a couple months since I'd first got my thighs around Have, and my mouth around Amery? It seemed like a million years ago.

When he gave the bottle back to me, I put it to my mouth and wondered if it was him I was tasting on the glass. I think it was.

As the fireworks flashed and sparked above us, I relaxed back against the roof, laying with my head in my hands so as I could watch the sky. I gulped down the rest of the liquor and set the bottle up on the windowsill. Amery laid down beside me, the side of his boot rested against my knee. When his fingertips slid against the back of my hand, I thought he'd done it accidental-like and didn't realize where he was touching. He was looking up at the sky, not at me. But then his fingers dipped down under my palm and wrapped around my hand. 

Was this actually fucking _happening_? Was I really _holding hands_ with him? 

I didn't care. It felt nice just being close to him. I slid my fingers between his, linking 'em together. No one could see. It didn't matter.

"Those are my favorite kind!" Balfour exclaimed from someplace that seemed very far away. "They look just like roses! Don't you think, Hilary?"

Hilary answered back, but I didn't catch the words. I was too busy looking at the way the light caught Amery's face, shining across his cheekbones and glittering in his dark eyes. I hadn't never seen a body that looked so damn near perfect. If I could've chose how I looked, like a woman picking out a necklace or pair of shoes, I would've wanted to look just like him. Fuck, I would've _been_ him.

Feeling my eyes on him, he looked over at me, and a soft kind of smile played across his lips. 

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he said back.

He reached out and brushed his knuckles across my cheek.

With my free hand, I tugged at the stiff leather of his belt.

"John," he whispered. There was a warning in it, in the way he said my name. _This ain't the place_ , it said. _Not here, not now._

I pulled his buttons open and worked my hand inside. He had on some kind of fancy underclothes, soft as silk. I cupped my palm around the hardness I found inside. Heat was radiating out through the fabric. Yeah, he wanted it.

But then he was pulling my hand away, setting it against my side before I'd even had a chance to try anything. Throwing me a hard look, he buttoned himself back up.

_What?_ I mouthed, shaking my head.

"Our _brothers_!" he hissed.

"So fucking _what_?" I whispered.

But he didn't answer. He fucking _ignored_ me. Stupid little Balfour was staring at the fireworks like a soldier just back from the Cobalts stared at a cheap whore's breasts. He wasn't gonna fucking notice if I got the tiniest fucking bit fresh with his brother. Wasn't nobody gonna notice _nothing_ we did up here.

But Amery kept ignoring me. It was like I didn't fucking _exist_.

Well, enough of this horseshit.

"I'm gonna get me another drink," I said. "You want anything?"

He shook his head, looking up at the sky like it was the most interesting damn thing he'd ever saw, and he couldn't've tore his eyes off it for all the liquor in Volstov. Or the greatest fucking handjob ever. Fucking whoreson. Piss-drinking, ass-faced son-of-a. I climbed down from our rooftop camp and joined the crowds.

Down in the streets, people were laughing and singing, drinking and eating, and twirling around these crazy sticks with little sparkling flames on the ends of 'em. The women were incredible-- all trussed up in their tight dresses like birds waiting for the feast. I could've ate 'em all up right there, and from the looks most of 'em was giving me, it seemed like they felt the same. 

It wasn't two minutes before I'd decided on one, this girl in a cream colored dress with big brown eyes and soft looking curls, and even softer looking skin. She was chatting with some friends and sharing a stick of spun sugar candy. When she saw me, she fluttered her eyelashes and licked her fingertips.

"Nice night," I told her.

One of the other girls started tittering, and mine acted all shy for a minute. It was all games though, the opening act before the big show, and we both knew it. She knew from the second she saw me what I wanted, and just how she was gonna let me have it. They always knew.

"My name's Lynette," she told me, voice sweet as her candy.

"Nice name," I told her.

She took me back to her place, this big building with vines carved into the columns, and snuck me up the back stairs. I hadn't never been in a house this fancy, or had a girl this clean. There was paintings on the walls and vases on these little stands, and her room was all done up in lace and satins. She was done up in 'em too, with all manner of fancy petticoats and underthings hiding beneath her skirts. Her legs were covered in these real fine silk stockings with ribbons at the top like the best sort of whore, and I slid the fabric down her legs as I slid my mouth up.

It'd been _so_ fucking long since I had a woman, I couldn't hardly take it. When my tongue met that soft, moist place between her thighs, I let loose this moan like it was _me_ that was the whore. She smelled like paradise, perfumed but natural underneath it, not covering up the scent of some other man that'd been there the night before. And the taste, sweet and salty at the same time and going to my head quicker than any wine-- _bastion_ , there was nothing that compared with it!

I got her to gasping like that, just working her with my tongue. Her fingers twined into my hair and tugged real nice as her thighs locked around my shoulders. After she'd rode it out, I kept a hand down below and moved my mouth up to her breasts. They were just the kind I liked-- big and round and soft and warm-- and if I hadn't been pretty desperate by then, I could've spent a lot of time letting her know just how incredible I thought they were. The way things was though, I didn't have it in me to be talking much. It was fucking I needed, good and long and hard.

It was fucking _she_ needed too, and I had her crying out her pleasure two more times while I was up between her thighs. The last time was fucking _perfect_. I was right on the edge, hanging on by a thread-like, and when she clenched around me, it hit me so hard I saw fucking _stars_. 

Or maybe fireworks. But I didn't want to think about _that_.

Afterwards, she wanted me to stay and lay with her for a while, but I told her I couldn't.

"My friends'll be missing me," I said, and it was only half a lie. 

She gave me her calling card and told me to come by sometime during the week. Her father would be at the Basquiat until seven or so. He always worked late. She got real lonely. I told her I would and stuffed the card in the pocket of Amery's jacket. 

His brother and him were gone by the time I got back to the place where Hilary was staying.

"I did my best to cover for you," he said, "but Amery knows exactly where you were and what you were doing. He's not stupid, you know."

He was sitting at his little desk with about a dozen books open and little pieces of paper marking different pages. There was a stack of notebooks by his elbow with a half-empty ink well sitting on top of them. 

"Yeah," I said, "so? Ain't like womanizing's illegal. Unless you scouted out some old law in one of them romans." My brother was probably the only person in the whole damn city that was studying at two in the morning on Basquiat Day, and I got a pretty big kick out of it.

He shook his head like I was being dense or something, but I wasn't. I didn't give a fuck what Amery or anybody else thought. Matter of fact, I was feeling so good, all loose and relaxed, I didn't give a fuck about much of anything. I wasn't _never_ going that long without a woman again.

"He took Balfour to his hotel room and told me that he was headed back to the Airman. If you'd been here, we probably could've convinced him that Balfour could stay with me," Hilary told me. "He's a bit funny, but I really do like him, and he doesn't seem to mind at all that I'm entirely devoid of any sort of pedigree."

"Yeah, well maybe next time," I said.

"If you keep treating Amery like that," he accused, "there won't _be_ a next time."

"What's that?" I asked, putting my hand to my ear. "Did I hear you thanking me for today? And for getting you out of that fucking hellhole where you had to wear your shoes to bed to keep 'em from getting stole? My hearing must be going, 'cause that sure ain't what it sounded like."

"Could we please skip the patronization for the moment? Do you have any idea how much money he left when he took you with him, John?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? What money?" I said.

He sighed and flipped the cover of his book shut. One of his little bookmarks fell out and fluttered to the floor. "The money he left after the last time he visited. _Gold_ , John. He left _gold_ , and so much of it, I didn't dare tell anyone I had it for fear of being killed on the spot. You cannot imagine what it was like. It was more money than I'd ever seen before in my life, and I couldn't even spend it!"

After thinking on it a minute, it clicked that my airman had left some coin on our chest, but I'd forgot all about it by now. If he'd thought I was gonna be joining the Corps, why the hell would he've left money? And _gold_ for that matter. Didn't make no fucking sense.

"What did you do with it?" I asked.

"I put it in our bank account. Well, I spent a bit after I got to Miranda of course," he admitted, "but only for the essentials which I detailed in my letters. Most of it is still there. Why, are you going to give it back?"

"Why the fuck would I give it back?" I said.

He gave me a funny look and then sighed real deep. "I have no idea. About anything. The whole situation is entirely beyond me. Are you spending the night?"

I shook my head. "Gotta get back tonight. Chief Sergeant'll throw a fucking tantrum if I ain't in before the crack of dawn. He's like a bastion bloody toddler, that asshole."

"Are you sure you should speak of him in such a manner?" Hilary asked. "Can he not punish you in some fashion?"

"I'm pretty sure he says worse about me," I told him. "And I don't really mind him much, anyway. It's just talk. At least he don't piss in my boots like the others."

Hilary gaped. "In your boots? _Those_ boots?"

"Yeah," I said. "Wanna smell?"

"Ugh," he said, and waved me away. 

I laughed and sat down on his bed. "So, you really do like it here, kid? Still in one piece and all that?" I asked. "'Cause you can tell _I_ sure enough am."

"Sure enough," he answered with a shrug, like he always did. "Though it is a bit lonely without you. I mean, I knew from the beginning that we would have to separate when I began attending the 'Versity, but conceptualization and actualization are two entirely different processes."

"Hey, Hilary," I said. "Get over here so as I can mess your hair up proper while you talk big words at me."

He laughed and shook his head but came over and flopped down onto the bed beside me. "What is it like?" he asked.

"What's _what_ like? Getting my boots pissed in?" I said. "Or do you mean what I got up to with that girl? Because let me tell you, she was--"

"No, and no," Hilary told me. "I _mean_ flying a dragon. Is it terribly frightening? I've had these _horrific_ visions of you falling to your death and smashing your skull to bits upon the cobbles of some back alley, and your brains spilling out in a great _gush_ like that drunk who fell off the stairs when I was six. "

"I told you not to look at that," I reminded him. 

He waved my comment away. "I can appreciate that you enjoy being a member of the Dragon Corps much better than trading in illegal goods and scrubbing up the remains of drunken johns' bodily fluids--"

"Amen to that," I told him.

"--and this is certainly a much safer environment for _me_ , but…" he frowned, "is not the sudden transition from living in a prop room to piloting of one of the Esar's _dragons_ marginally extreme? The Dragon Corps are supposed to be trained for years before they even _see_ a dragon, but even that isn't a guarantee of safety. What happens if you get killed? What would I do without you?"

"I ain't getting killed," I said. "Not a lick of danger in it, I promise." 

And maybe that wasn't completely true, but far as I could see, riding a dragon was a whole lot safer than knife fighting and dodging the Provost's Wolves in Molly. The only danger I'd picked up at the Airman was the other fucking _airmen_ , and that wasn't nothing I couldn't handle. 

Hilary didn't buy it for one damn second. "I would like to take this moment to formally announce that you are completely and utterly _full of it_. Why would they pay you so much to do it if it's so safe? And what about the men who died doing it? Did _they_ think that it was safe as well? Simply believing oneself to be safe does not indicate true safety. Thus, the logic of your argument is intrinsically flawed," he told me.

"Nah," I said, "my argument's solid as the walls of the bastion. Them other bastards just wasn't any good at it. But me, I'm fucking amazing. It's like second nature."

"Right. I'm sure," Hilary said, not sounding like he was sure at all.

I rubbed at his back, soothing-like. "It's cake," I reassured. Kid was still so damn skinny. Would he ever grow any way but straight up? "You could do it no problem. Well, not on _my_ girl-- she's wild as a wet cat and more cantankerous than Madam when she's drunk, and she'll wear you out twice as fast. She'd rip your beanpole arms right out of their sockets. But on one of the littler ones, you'd do just fine. The swifts ain't hardly bigger than a horse."

"They come in different _sizes_?" Hilary said, blinking up at me.

I laughed and mussed his hair. "You're a good kid," I told him. "And clever too. But don't get no ideas about stealing yourself a dragon, 'cause I ain't covering for you." 

"You're ridiculous," he told me.

I laughed and hugged him long and hard.

"You're smothering me," he said after a while.

But I kept it up. I hugged him for all the times I hadn't, and all the times I knew I was gonna want to but wouldn't be around for. You could never hug your little brother enough. It just wasn't possible, and it didn't matter how old he got or how bad you embarrassed him. And I wasn't hardly smothering him anyway. "People that's being smothered can't talk," I told him.

"Mmph mmm phmm," he answered, smartass that he was, and I kissed his forehead.

Was it right I'd exchanged a life with Hilary by my side for a cold metal dragon and an airman with a heart harder than the obsidian-laced platinum they'd made her from, who wouldn't even let me touch on him a little while we watched fireworks? 

I left Hilary's place feeling pretty tired and kind of strange about the whole damn thing.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The Airman was quiet when I got back. A few of the Corps was out on a raid, and the others were either out on the town-- like as not whoring like Hilary's roommates-- or asleep. The only ones that was up was Ivory and Raphael. They sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by what was left of the dirty prints Amery and me had hung. A lot of 'em had been took down and hung up in different places around the Airman, so you couldn't go nowhere without catching a glimpse of an exposed backside or nicely rounded tit. The only time Compagnon stopped laughing was when he slept.

Somebody had stuck a couple up above each toilet, which made things pretty convenient when you were taking care of business quick and dirty and wanted a little something to speed up the process. Some idiot had hung some in the showers, but _that_ didn't last long. I put a few of them pretty Ke-Han ladies up in Have's pen.

"Look, I know as how we're supposed to fry the whole bastion-bloody lot of 'em, but if you see any that look like _this_ ," I told my girl, pointing at one that had a cherry blossom tucked behind her ear and the finest looking pussy I ever laid eyes on, "see if you can try and hold back a little, alright?"

She didn't seem too interested. 

Ivory and Raphael didn't seem too interested either. Not in the prints, and not in me. Raphael was looking tired, and Ivory ready to knife somebody in the back. 

"Happy fucking Basquiat Day to you too," I told 'em when they ignored me. I made what I deemed an appropriate gesture of greeting with my middle finger from the doorway.

Ivory gave me this real pissed off look and shot up out of his chair. For a second, I thought he was coming at me, but he pushed past and walked straight out of the kitchen. Down the hall, I heard his door slam.

"Don't mind him," Raphael told me with a thin smile. "He seems to be suffering from a particularly virulent migraine this evening."

"It ain't evening," I told him, and headed toward my own room.

I might've went to bed if I hadn't saw how Amery was still up. My hand was on my doorknob, and I was feeling pretty worn out after today, but I just happened to see his light was on. A thin strip of white filtered out from under his door, coloring the floor a ghostly shade of pale. I figured what the hell, and let myself in.

"So, are Ivory and Raphael fucking?" I asked.

Amery started so bad, he dropped his book. It bounced off his knee and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. I got a particularly nasty look from him as he picked it up. He was still dressed and sitting at his desk same as Hilary had been, squinting down at some print instead of laying in bed getting shuteye like he should've been doing. He was on duty tomorrow night. "Have you never heard of knocking?" he demanded.

"I heard of it," I told him. 

"Go to bed," he ordered.

"You know, I figured Raphael for some sort of Cindy from the very start, what with all his big words and all, but not Ivory. Not until I saw 'em tonight, anyway," I said. "Sitting in the kitchen together, thick as fucking thieves, those two."

"It is not _tonight_ ," he corrected. "It is _tomorrow morning_. Now go to bed."

I laughed at that and sat myself down on his bed. "I got other evidence. The shower log."

" _John_ ," Amery warned.

"They always sign up for time slots right next to each other after raids. I think maybe they're, you know, helping each other scrub off the soot," I told him. Whenever a man came back after a raid, he was all but painted black from the gasoline the girls burned when they breathed fire. I hadn't got in that much experience with it yet, but what I _had_ dealt with had left me stinking something powerful. "And of course while they're nice and naked, they'll be helping each other out with a few other--"

"Ivory and _Raphael_ ," Amery interrupted, "sign up for duty together because Cassiopeia works well alongside swifts. Anastasia and Natalia _both_ find it agreeable to work with her, and it only makes sense that two individuals flying out at the same time would subsequently shower directly after their return. Signing up to shower at similar times after a raid means nothing, and if it _did_ , then all of the times in which _I_ signed up directly after Ivory would--"

"Only you cut me off before I could _finish_ ," I said over him, "and say how they sign up for shower slots next to each other even when they _ain't_ just back from flying. I checked the logs back for months when I was trying to figure who it was that'd pissed in my boots. So I'm just asking if they're fucking."

"Go to bed," Amery told me again, like I was stupid and hadn't heard him before.

I took off his jacket and draped it across his footboard. It looked good there, homey-like, so I slid my shirt over my head and laid it beside the jacket. "Didn't say I had nothing _against_ it," I said, fiddling with the handle of one of my knives. "A man's got a right to fuck whoever he damn well wants. I'm just asking, is all."

"Do you truly believe that your behavior tonight has put me in such a state as to acquiesce to your particular desires, whether they be in word or deed?" he demanded.

"Well, it's put _me_ in a pretty nice state," I told him. Couldn't figure what the fuck he was talking about anyway. "And it's your desires I'm thinking on here, right?"

"I cannot imagine how you continue to operate under the delusion that it is I who want you here," he said, voice real harsh.

"Well it sure as fuck ain't th'Esarina that wants me here," I told him, 'cause he was being stupid. "Who else would it be? And why the fuck are you still all the way over _there_? I'm getting bare-assed in your bed, in case you ain't noticed."

He sighed and threw his book onto his desk. It landed with a dull _thunk_. I shucked my boots and slipped out of the rest of my things while he rubbed at his eyes like the sight of me made him tired. 

"John," he began, and then shook his head like he'd thought better of whatever he was about to say. He bit his lip, sighed, and then started again. "Setting aside what happened on the roof for a moment, I regret to inform you that you have succeeded in single-handedly ruining what was otherwise a perfectly lovely evening for me. Not to _mention_ the fact that you abandoned your own brother to the company of strangers in favor of the pursuit of the basest of pleasures. Is this behavior supposed to please me?"

"What do you mean, _abandoned_?" I said. "He was on the roof of his own fucking _place_. You should know that 'cause you're the one that helped him get in there. And the only person whose night was ruined was _mine_ , from some stuck-up son-of-a acting like a little--"

"I am not in the mood for any more of your antics tonight, John," he interrupted.

"Thought it was tomorrow morning," I told him, and stretched my arms out across his mattress. His blankets were nicer than mine; they were soft as silk against my backside. "Didn't you say that? Hey, you got any ointment? Or lotion or anything?"

"John," he began, and then sighed.

"I just went and fucked some _girl_ ," I said. "Where's the fucking harm in _that_? It didn't have nothing to do with _you_."

Amery sighed again. He was doing that a lot.

"Okay, so no lotion then. How about butter? Or did Evariste eat it all again?" I asked, just to be an ass. 

I knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in. Even if he took the long route getting there, my airman _always_ gave in in the end. That's why he was mine. He gave me what I wanted when I wanted it, whether it was paper and ink to write Hilary, fireworks together on a rooftop, or a leisurely afternoon screw. Or my very own fucking _dragon_. All I had to do was lay back and wait for it to come to me. 

And that was what I did: just laid back with my hands behind my head looking across the room at him. He watched me kind of antsy-like, like one of the girls back home would watch a man that wanted to hang around the place and chat with her after they'd done the deed, when she was already looking for the next man to spread her thighs for.

That didn't sound so bad right about now, spreading my thighs. I'd did a hell of a job of things with that woman tonight, and I was feeling pretty relaxed. Wouldn't make me any less of a man being done this way, and I had the flowery calling card to prove it. And anyway, it didn't make no sense to roll over when I was already settled down into the blankets, nice and cozy and feeling like wrapping my arms around something else warm and solid tonight. 

Or tomorrow morning. Whatever.

Easy as you please, I opened my legs and reached a hand down between 'em. I would've been better off with something to lube things up, but I wasn't hardly tight as a virgin nomore. Amery'd saw to that. A little spit on a finger or two, and I was in. It felt pretty good, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, relaxing into the sensation.

"Will you _please_ put your things back on and go to your own room," Amery said, but I could tell it was real last-ditch. It wasn't even an actual order. 

I spread my thighs a little wider and tilted my hips, cracked open an eye, and told him, "Let's fucking _go_ already."

"Do not _order me around_ ," he said to me as he unbuttoned his pants.

I chuckled and watched as he pulled out his cock, thick and red and hard as I knew it would be. Looking at him all on display like that had me feeling a little less sore with him for turning me down up on Hilary's roof. Maybe he put up a front for the rest of the world, but in here, he was all mine, a genuine fucking private show.

It felt strange, him sliding up between my thighs, his front against mine, and my arms on his shoulders. I hadn't _never_ done it this way before, not even once, no matter how much money somebody offered. It was too personal, and the last thing you wanted to do with some son-of-a taking his pleasure from you for a bit of coin was take it personal. Amery's clothes rubbed against my skin, the fabric of his pants scratchy against the insides of my thighs as he pressed against me. With him, it wasn't personal. You didn't have to worry about that sort of thing from a man that didn't even loosen his collar to fuck you.

The thing was though, that it sort of _felt_ personal. He was all up in my space like he belonged there, one hand planted next to my shoulder on the mattress and the other against the small of my back, his chest just a few inches from mine. And truth be told, it was pretty nice. I didn't have to do nothing, just laid there like somebody's bored wife doing her duty, and let it happen. It didn't hurt or bother me or nothing. It didn't cost me any sort of effort at all, so it was fine. 

Matter of fact, a body could get used to this sort of thing.

And it was different seeing his face. I'd saw it when I was down on my knees before, but up close, it was… I don't know. Different.

His eyes were closed, his brow creased and soft-looking lips parted. Every breath he took caught in his throat, pulling his pale neck taut. The faint light from the lamp flickered across his skin, painting ever-moving shadows across his cheeks. I wrapped my hand 'round the back of his neck and dug the tips of my fingers into the soft waves of his hair, watching the way it ruffled under my fingertips. I wished he'd open his eyes, so I could see how _they_ looked too.

"John," he whispered.

"Look at me," I heard myself saying.

He moaned, and his eyes fluttered open for as second, then back shut again. Good enough; they were deep and shadowy and lost in his feelings. I drew his lips down to my neck, so his breath puffed against my skin. It sent a tingle down my spine.

His shoulders was one big knot. He was like this ball of tenseness, a clock wound too tight with somebody holding the hands so it couldn't unwork itself. I smoothed my palms across his back, soft and soothing-like, and it was like all that stiffness drained out of him with my touch. I could feel things softening up there just as the part of him down below got harder and more insistent inside me. He was pounding into me like a fucking _drum_.

It was then I realized how fucking _hard_ I was. I didn't get it all out of my system with that girl after all, and now it'd fucking crept up on me. I was stiff as a tent pole, the length of my cock pinned against Amery's stomach, foreskin pulling back and forth something _incredible_ as he moved. This was un- _fucking_ -satisfactory, but what in the bastion was I supposed to do about it? Rub myself off against his shirt? That was the cindiest fucking thing I ever heard in my whole fucking _life_.

But maybe I could. I mean, it didn't seem like he'd notice, focused as he was on the rest. His mouth pressed hot and wet against the side of my neck, and his hips were beating out a damn war tattoo against mine, balls slapping against my ass.

It wouldn't mean nothing. This was all on account of that girl and the fireworks, and maybe a little because of how this whole place smelled like dragons, and the way Amery rode me like I _was_ one. I wasn't no Cindy. I was as much a man as the rest of the Corps-- _more_ than most-- and it didn't mean _nothing_ how I was gasping and moving under Amery, my arms locked tight around his back. My cock was fucking _throbbing_. That was all I knew.

" _John_ ," Amery gasped, "John, John John JohnJohnjohnjo--" like it was the only thing _he_ knew.

"Say it," I moaned, the words slipping from my mouth unbidden. " _Amery_ …"

He made this noise, and all of a sudden, my knees were pushed up against my chest, and Amery was up above my body shoving into me so hard, I thought I'd fucking bust in half. The shift took the pressure off my cock, and I didn't know if I should be thanking him or trying to pull him back down on top of me so as I could get back to rutting against him. But I guess I didn't have much choice. He always went funny right before he lost control, didn't know nothing but the way his own body felt, and I didn't have the arm strength to move him.

So I just watched.

Bastion, but he was so fucking _beautiful_. He looked like a statue above me, too perfect to be real, the light of his skin in the dark of the night almost glowing. But they hadn't never made a statue with a look like this on its face, or this kind of warm, strong body, or with a cock that made me feel so good, I couldn't help the sounds I was making as he shoved it in me again and again.

I reached down between my thighs. _If this makes me a Cindy_ , I thought, but I didn't have time to finish it. Amery's eyes flew open, and he came with a shout, his body going stiff above me. Sounded almost like it hurt him, the force of it taking him in its grips, and I stroked his shoulders, calming him best as I could. I knew the feeling.

He hung over me for a minute, panting from the effort, his arms shaking from holding him up. It burned a little when he pulled out, but he didn't seem to notice how I was rock hard. That made me pretty relieved, if frustrated as hell. I moved my legs down so as he could slide off me, and he laid his head on the pillow. I laid mine beside it, turning 'til we faced each other, nose to nose. My hands slid up his chest, pulling open his buttons to find the soft skin underneath. He was pale as a ghost, like his chest hadn't never met the sun before, and he had a scar the length of my hand cutting pink and jagged-like across his left nipple.

"You get that flying?" I asked him.

He took a deep, sleepy breath, drew an arm around me, and said, "mm."

I wasn't sure if he was answering my question or just commenting on the situation in general, but I guess it didn't much matter. What mattered was that things were back the way they was supposed to be. We laid there awhile like that, just breathing in and out with the silence of the Airman ringing in our ears. I thought it was too bad how he couldn't sleep in the same bed with another body, 'cause I'd've liked to watch him drift off beside me.

He shifted against me, gloved fingers flexing across my hip. "John?"

I ran my fingertips over the scar on his chest. It made me feel sort of tingly and strange inside. "Yeah?"

"You don't mind that I… finish inside of you, do you?" he murmured. "I'd always meant to ask, but…"

I snorted, my breath so close to his skin, it puffed back at me. "No, I don't mind." Crazy bastard.

He pressed a palm to my cheek, his eyes pools of black as he looked into mine. "Some do," he told me.

It was the first time he ever mentioned that sort of thing. By now, I had it figured he knew his way around a naked man pretty decent, but it felt strange him actually coming right out and saying it. I didn't like it. And I didn't want to talk about it, not with his eyes burning into mine like that and somewhat of a situation still down in my lap. "Want me to leave now so you can sleep?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Just a few minutes longer."

"Ain't you on duty tomorrow night? Or _tonight_ , I guess?" I asked. "What the fuck time is it, anyway? Before long, Niall's gonna be up to fix his fucking breakf--"

"John, my brother has no idea," he said. It was real sudden and not connected to anything I was thinking, and I couldn't guess what he was getting at. "To have done such a thing… if he had not been there, you know that I would have been more than willing. But if Balfour had merely turned around and seen us… he would not have understood the way that I choose to live my life."

"Oh," I said, figuring it out but not sure I believed him even now. Didn't matter, though. "Well that's over now, so forget about it. Water under the dam or over the bridge or whatever."

" _Over_ the dam," he said. " _Under_ the bridge. And thank you for today. Balfour had an absolutely lovely time, which I am sure would not have been the case had we been unaccompanied."

"Thanks for admitting I ain't full of shit," I told him. "Even though I was sort of worried I _was_ when I first saw the kid."

He chuckled, something he didn't do too often, and I could feel it rumble in his chest. I liked it. I liked _him_. I ran my fingers across the edges of the scar on his chest. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck. 

And then he had to go and ruin the whole thing by _fucking kissing me_.

I didn't even see it coming. I was just laying there all calm and relaxed when his mouth touched against mine, the slick of his tongue sliding against my lips and then pressing between 'em, slipping wet and hot against my teeth. It was so far out of bounds-- so _personal_ \-- my brain couldn't hardly process it at first. But then it did.

"Whoa, whoa!" I shouted, pushing him away, and sprung up off the bed and halfway across the room. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

He stared at me. "I was only--"

"Yeah, I know what you was _only_ doing, and I ain't up for that kind of _horseshit_ ," I spat. "You think just 'cause I tickle you right when I ain't got nothing better to do--"

"John--"

"--you think that means I want your fucking _tongue_ down my throat? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" I demanded, angry as bastion. Who the fuck did he think he was, taking advantage like that? Was he so much better than me, he could get away with anything? Was that how it all shook out?

He shook his head. "But I thought--"

"Yeah, well you can damn well stop _thinking_!" I snapped. "I ain't your fucking _boyfriend_ , and I ain't sucking face with you like some kind of Cindy! You think I'm your _toy_ now? Your own personal Hapenny _rentboy_ or something? Well _fuck you_!"

"This is utterly preposterous," Amery proclaimed. 

"Look, there's fucking _boundaries_ with these things, alright? You can't fucking do whatever you fucking _want_ to me!" I told him. He was staring at me like I'd lost my damn mind, and I took a deep breath to get myself pulled back together proper. That was what Hilary always told me to do: take a deep breath and count to ten, and keep my hands off my knives 'til I calmed down. 

Speaking of my knives, they were on the floor, still hooked in my belt and laying on top of my pants. I'd forgot I was naked. Well, at least I wasn't too hard anymore. Fucking _Amery'_ d killed that one. Whoreson. I reached down for my underwear. 

Well, _his_ underwear, but still.

"Tell me, John," he said. He was sitting up on the bed now, his shirt still undone and prick laying out soft and pink and limp across his thigh. I fucking _hated_ when he did that. Made me want to break his face open. "What sort of boundaries are these of which you speak? It is perfectly acceptable to walk arm-in-arm with me in public, introduce your brother to mine, and manhandle me upon a rooftop, but a simple, private gesture of intimate affection is beyond the pale?"

"I told you before as how I ain't interested in getting no personal enjoyment out of this thing we're doing. That ain't what it's about," I reminded him.

"Then what _is_ it about, John? Please explain it to me," he said, hands spread wide like a peace offering, palms up, "because you seem to have all the answers, and I, apparently, know nothing."

"There ain't nothing to explain," I told him. "I do what I do 'cause I fucking _feel_ like it. It's only jumped-up sons-of-a like _you_ that needs everything laid out with proper logic and grammar and everything before it makes a speck of sense."

He shook his head again, a crease between his brows. "This is entirely insane. One of us has surely lost his mind, yet I am at a loss as to which of us it might be." 

I snorted. "Well, it sure as fuck ain't _me_."

"Then what…" he sighed and did his pants up-- finally!-- and ran a hand through his hair. It'd fell down across his forehead earlier and was stained dark with sweat. "If this is so, then what, in your estimation, is the exact nature of our particular relationship?"

"Hey, this ain't no kind of _relationship_ ," I corrected real quick. "This is me giving you what you need, and you looking a gift horse in the mouth. That's what _this_ is."

"Ah. So I need this now, do I?" he said. "You supply me with a necessary service. And I should be grateful for your efforts, and unquestioning of your motives."

I didn't like his tone of voice. It was like he was accusing me of something, and all I was doing was telling it like it is. He was acting like it was _me_ that was the problem here. "It ain't my fault how you can't see what's right in front of your eyes," I told him.

"Oh, am I the one who's doing that?" he demanded. "Funny, it seemed to me that it was the other way around."

"You know what?" I said, pulling my shirt on so sharp I almost ripped the fabric. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of fucking arguing over how you weren't born with no notion of respect for another body's personal space, and how that's _my_ fault. So you know what? Next time you want it, you come to me. I been going out of my way to do for you all this time, and now it's your turn to take some fucking initiative. You don't like the way I'm handling things, fine. Reins are in _your_ hands now."

"Perfect," he snapped. "Now get the bastion-benighted _hell_ out of my room."

*****

By the time I cooled down, I decided I'd treated Amery a little harsh. For all I knew, the noblesse tongue-swabbed their own damn mothers. Maybe it was fucking _custom_ or something. Rich people were all inbred and did some fucked-up shit, and it wasn't like an urchin like _me_ would know about it all. 

But either way, I wasn't gonna apologize. He'd took me for granted, and he was gonna realize pretty quick how wrong that was, and maybe I'd knock his pride down a notch or two in the process. It would serve him right.

And anyway, I had bigger fish to fry; I was gonna be going on my first raid soon, and Adamo'd set me and Have up flying so much, it hardly gave me time to be fussing like a woman over Amery. Hardly gave me time for _nothing_. But I didn't mind. I never minded getting my legs spread 'round my girl, 'specially now as things was finally on their way toward getting interesting. 

We were training in formation now, with two other men up in the air, one on either side of us. I thought it was stupid at first, seeing as how you didn't fly like that on a raid, but I got proved wrong real quick. It was one thing to get your girl to do what you asked, dip and twist and turn quicker than a twopenny trick, but it was a whole _nother_ thing to do it with a half ton of sharp-edged metal flying a foot from your wingtips. 

Today, the lead was Jeannot. He flew Al Atan. She was a Jacqueline-of-all-trades like Have, one of the newer dragons, but nowhere near as pretty or as quick. Adamo had him go up with me 'cause he wanted me to compare our flying, study him like. I didn't see much worth comparing. 

"Rook!" he shouted at me over the wing of his girl. Even this close, it was hard to hear anyone else, what with the wind in your ears and the gentle sort of swooshing the girls' wings made. When there was any sort of breeze, you had to yell. "We're repeating the target drills you started yesterday, but Adamo wants your dives tighter and quicker!"

"Tighter and quicker?" I shouted back, grinning. "What am I, a whore?"

He gave me this look like I was wasting his time-- he was real uptight about that-- and said, "Relay it to Niall!"

Niall volunteered 'cause it got him out of flying at night, and he was always going out on the town to visit the theatre, or tease the ladies, or whatever. I told him what was up, and he nodded and turned with us toward the Cobalts.

"This should be entertaining," Have told me. The slow, measured rise and fall of her wings was deceptive. Her neck was stretched straight as an arrow toward the mountains in the distance, and her gears were all but humming with pent-up aggression. Yeah, I knew how _that_ felt. If I had it my way, I'd let her go-- turn her into a dark, shining streak in the morning sky and leave the others in our dust. 

But when did I ever have it my way?

"If by _entertaining_ you mean _embarrassing_ ," I said to her, "then I guess you're right."

"Embarrassing?" she said, and gave a disbelieving snort. "Not on your damn life!"

"I meant for _them_ ," I told her, wiggling the reins a little so she knew I was teasing.

"Keep that up, and I'm going to fly headfirst into a cliff just to get rid of you," she retorted. "They'll rebuild _me_. _You_ , on the other hand, won't be so lucky."

I laughed and shifted against her. Maybe I'd got used to the feel of her between my legs, but I'd never get tired of it. And I knew how she felt the same. "Hey now, don't forget who's in control here. I ride _you_ , not the other way around. By the time we get done training, nose-diving into cliffs is the last thing you're gonna want to do. Unless I'm the one that's telling you to do it; 'cause by then if I tell you how you wanna bash yourself into smithereens, you're gonna _beg_ me for it."

She looked at me over her shoulder, all proud and sleek and beautiful so it almost melted my heart. "Of course," she purred. "That's why I _chose_ you."

If I ever had a time I felt better about myself than right then, I sure couldn't remember it.

"You know, you're not half bad," Niall told me that evening in the mess. 

"Neither are you," I said, setting down my heaping dish between him and Compagnon and sliding into my chair. "Maybe when you get trained up decent, I'll find some use for you besides scaring off the birds."

Across the table, Luvander snorted. It was some kind of joke how Erdeni had took a pigeon to the face a while back-- stupidest fucking birds in the world, pigeons-- and there wasn't a man jack of us about to let him forget it. I wanted to do something with feathers to decorate his room up all special, but I wasn't sure what. If only Amery'd see his way toward getting over his fucking stubbornness and come and fucking _fuck_ me, I could put together some kind of plan. 

But Amery kept on not coming. I'd hardly even fucking _saw_ the bastard. He was holed up in his room like some kind of holy Brother of Regina just itching to get his mouth sewed shut. Pretty soon, it was gonna start to get on my damn nerves.

"So," I said, "where the fuck is Amery anyway? I ain't seen him here even once. He on some special diet plan where he can't eat the same as us normal mortals? Delicate digestion or something?" I turned to Ghislain, not because I really thought he'd tell me, but because if anyone knew, it'd be him. Ghislain was either one crazy son-of-a or a hundred times smarter than the rest of us, or maybe both. I wasn't sure exactly. Anyway, there was something _there_ , you know?

Ghislain shrugged. 

"He sometimes eats with the Chief Sergeant," Merritt told me. He was across the table where his jittering wouldn't get on my nerves too bad. We'd worked that one out after the first week.

Ace, who'd joined us only after making sure my knives were safely sheathed, snorted and speared a mushroom off Merritt's plate while he wasn't looking. "Lord _Amery_ doesn't like eating with the Corps. Thinks he's _better_ than us," he said, real snide. 

"I'd like to see you say that to his face," Ghislain said.

So would I, and I told him so. Ace was such a little pussy. I was still working on deciding who I was gonna kill first, Ivory or Merritt, but maybe I'd do Ace instead. Wasn't like nobody'd _miss_ him.

"Amery's not so great when you get him up in the air," Ace insisted, 'cause he had some sort of death wish.

Raphael looked pretty annoyed. "Oh really?" he asked. "And why, pray tell, would that be?"

" _Must_ we argue about this again?" said Ivory, voice dry as a body locked out of the corner bar on a hot summer's day.

"Yes, well you're not the one whose girl is being categorically insulted," Raphael said. 

"Some girls like that sort of thing," Magoughin announced with a smile.

"Really? Where do you find them? Because this sounds like _paradise_!" Luvander told him.

Compagnon got to laughing pretty good over _that_ one.

"And if the figurative shoe were on the other _foot_ ," Raphael added, not getting the joke 'cause he was obviously a gigantic Cindy, "I am quite sure that you would be just as disagreeable to such unwarranted defamation, Ivory."

"Dragons all have different purposes," Evariste spoke up. He was at the end of the table by Merritt and Ace and was usually pretty quiet. I didn't much mind him even if his hair did look stupid from him tugging on it all the time. "You can't judge one type based on the design of another. It's like comparing apples and oranges. Or, not even oranges. It's like comparing apples and…"

"Breasts," Magoughin supplied with another big grin.

Compagnon laughed. "Well, there _are_ some I could just about take a bite out of!"

"Some _apples_?" Merritt asked. "Or some _breasts_?"

"You take the apples," I told him. " _I'll_ take the breasts."

It was a pretty good answer, and a few of 'em got to nodding. Ladies' attributes was one of the favorite topics around here. You couldn't go wrong with it. Jeannot started in about some sort of gossip about this court lady and her corsets, one of which was currently decorating Magoughin's headboard.

"Like I always say, bigger's better," Magoughin told us. "Big apples, big breasts--"

Compagnon laughed.

"--and big _dragons_."

"Fuck you," said Luvander, but pretty congenial-like. Seemed like it was an argument they had a lot, which dragon was the best ride. I didn't say as how Have could chew up and spit out any of _their_ girls. I figured it went without saying.

"Speaking of fucking," said Niall, to Compagnon's general amusement, "we haven't seen you around the common room much to share in our entertainment, Rook. Too worn out from the training?"

I snorted. The Corps was always bringing in whores in the evening, and they even had this private room that smelled like Hapenny Lane where they took the girls when they were done playing with 'em in the public room. But nobody'd exactly invited me to join in, and I wasn't all that interested anyway. I had more important things to do, and my money was better spent on lodging for Hilary and a new pair of boots than a quick tickle. "I get me plenty enough riding in otherwise," I told him.

"Alas, even the most well-trained man can only ride for so long," mourned Raphael. He had this real sad look on his face like the world was about to come to an end. Ivory snorted into his drink.

"Some longer than others," Ghislain added, looking real smug.

"Yeah, I know all about _that_ ," said Ace, shit-eating grin on his stupid-looking face. Yeah, I'd decided: I'd kill him first.

Compagnon laughed. "Why is that, Ace? Because you steal peeks in the showers?"

"Shut up, assface. You're about as long as Merritt's attention span," Ace told him. "Right, Merritt?"

Merritt blinked up from his dinner, a chunk of chicken hanging out the side of his mouth. "Hmm?"

Ghislain chuckled, low and deep.

"Look," I said, not about to let the subject go when I was getting accused of something, "I ain't accustomed to paying for nothing I can get for free, women included. So unless you sons-of-a decide to treat me--"

"Keep dreaming," said Niall, who was still sore at me for the pigeon crack, I guess.

I showed a few too many teeth when I grinned at him. "Or maybe you need some pointers. That it, Niall? Wanna see how a real man does it?"

Luvander busted into laughter and started pounding the table. "A _real man_!" he hooted.

Evarsite's face went bright red. 

Merritt leaned toward me. "There was this… thing," he said, not really quiet enough to warrant the leaning, "with a mannequin from a dress shop in Charlotte…"

" _I_ knew she wasn't a woman," Jeannot chimed in.

"Like _hell_ you did!" shouted Ace.

"You were as drunk as Evariste!" Luvander added.

Jeannot sniffed and looked down his nose at him. "Is that a fact, Luvander?"

"Well, I don't know," Luvander laughed. "Do _you_ think it is?"

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you, Luvander," Jeannot snapped.

Luvander shrugged, throwing Jeannot a cocky glance. "I suppose _you'd_ know."

And just like that, there was this shift. Tension rippled through the air so thick you could just about feel it in your bones. And almost before I knew it was happening-- but not quite, Mollyrat as I was-- Jeannot was up out of his seat and over the table, sending food and silverware flying as he leaped at Luvander.

It took all of two seconds for Niall and Compagnon and Ace to join in, and then Evariste and Magoughin, and all of a sudden, it was like a fucking _barfight_. Fists were flying, food was hitting the floor, and glasses were breaking on all sides of me. I couldn't even figure what Jeannot was angry about and what the _fuck_ a mannequin had to do with it. 

These Dragon Corps… they were out of their fucking _minds_!

"That's good entertainment," said Merritt, shoveling more chicken into his mouth as he watched Ace break a plate against Magoughin's head. Magoughin didn't seem too bothered.

"If you say so," I told him, wondering what the fuck I was even doing here. Maybe Amery had the right idea, I though, and moved my fork out of the way of Niall's face, which was being summarily slammed against the tabletop by Raphael. Not that I cared if the bastard got forked in the eye; I just didn't want his blood on my silverware.

Ghislain brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth, totally unfazed by the fact there was a fight going on two inches from his left elbow. He was calm as a clam. "It's good to see you're fitting in," he said to me.

"If this is fitting in," I started. But I couldn't finish because someone had sent Compagnon flying into my back, upsetting my dish and spilling my dinner all down my lap.

I gave him a fat lip.

Felt a lot better afterwards, too.

I ran into Amery in the hallway later that evening, scrub brush still in my hand from Adamo's punishment for the little dinner show. 

"I don't want to see a single one of you whoresons' faces 'til the floor of the mess shines like fucking _dragon hide_ ," the Chief Sergeant had ordered. I bet he thought he sounded all tough saying it, but he wasn't intimidating _me_ none. This was nothing. If it'd been me handing out the punishment, there wouldn't've been no scrub brushes; the Corps would've been cleaning that shit up with their _tongues_.

"Too bad you missed out on all the fun," I told Amery, moving the brush in the air like I was still scrubbing. I was kind of embarrassed, actually. Amery made me feel like that sometimes. I didn't know why.

"Hello," he said. He nodded and kept on walking.

"Hey," I called out. "You listening to me, or what?"

"The men fight all the time," he called back, the strike of his boots sharp against the floor. "It helps them blow off steam and is significantly cheaper than other forms of entertainment. It is never serious, and rarely worth commenting upon."

"Yeah, I got that," I told him. 

He kept walking, heading toward his room. I followed him. "It ain't about the fight. There's something else before you go to bed. You _forgot_ something," I said.

He paused, hand on his doorknob. "And what is that?"

I just stood there, not saying nothing, my arms spread out and doing the talking for me. _Me_ , they said. _It's_ me _you forgot_.

He opened his door and took a step inside. "Are you coming in?" he asked. He held the door open for me. Though it was pretty dark out, I could see his bed behind him, beckoning me like a pretty lady with her breasts exposed.

I shook my head, shaking the image of soft skin and sweet tasting lips out of it. "That ain't the deal," I told him. "You come to _me_ , remember?"

Amery nodded. "Ah. In that case," he said, "good night."

And with that, he shut the door in my face. 

He didn't lock it. I stood there listening for the click of the mechanism, but it never came. Other sounds filtered out, and I could tell he was getting ready to sleep. I heard the rustle of fabric as he took off his jacket, the clonk of his boots as he set them on the ground. The sound of metal-on-metal as he undid his belt. That one spring that always squeaked when you sat down on his mattress.

And then I realized I'd been standing outside Amery's door for the past five minutes with a fucking _scrub brush_ in my hand, and I threw the damn thing against the wall. 

When was he gonna figure out what was best for him? 'Cause I was feeling _real_ tired of waiting for his stupid ass to get in gear.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

When the Chief Sergeant busted into my room in the middle of the night, I knew I was in some kind of deep shit. He was on duty tonight and must've just got back in because his hair was wet, and the stink of a raid was still clinging to him.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," I told him. Under the sheets, my hand went to my knife on instinct. I clenched my fist to keep from pulling it on him. As much as I wanted to, I didn't think it'd help my case much.

"I want your Mollyrat ass out of that fucking _bed_ ," Adamo bellowed, "and over to my quarters _now_!"

When I got out into the hallway, there was a half dozen men standing around sniggering. I sure didn't know what this was about, but I knew it didn't have nothing to do with me and anything _I'd_ done. My manners was practically saint-like. I hadn't even raised hell when some son-of-a had fucked with my alarm clock and made me miss a whole damn morning of flying.

Ivory was glaring at me from his doorway, white-blond hair mussed from sleep. I spared a second to glare back. Maybe I'd kill _him_ first instead of Ace after all.

Adamo grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me to his door.

"Hey!" I shouted, trying to brush him off. "Watch the fucking _merchandise_ , you--"

But the words died on my tongue when I looked in. I'd never saw the inside of the Chief Sergeant's room before, but whatever it was supposed to look like, this wasn't it. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes just to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. Instead of a bed, chest of drawers, and desk, his room was filled with a powder blue velvet couch, an end table, some fancy Arlemagne rugs, and a wine rack complete with bottles and glasses. And the whole place smelled like cheap whores.

"The fuck is _this_? Isn't that-- that's the furniture from the private common room," I said.

"You're damn right it is," he snapped. "I don't know how in the bastion you got it in here, but you're gonna get it the _hell_ out!"

The other men were still laughing behind us, and I turned to shoot 'em all a nasty look. I'd've found it real funny how Adamo's new bed had saw more pussy than one of them ladies that bred Hacian cats, and more cock than a henhouse, if only it wasn't me he was accusing of putting it there.

"You think I carried all this shit in here? All by my fucking _lonesome_?" I asked him, getting pretty annoyed. " I don't even know how the fuck a body would get that couch through the door!" 

Adamo made a noise in the back of his throat like a growl. "I don't wanna hear your horseshit excuses. You're on dog rations 'til you _die_! Now get it the fuck out of my _room_!"

" _Look_ at it!" I insisted, stabbing my finger in the direction of the couch, and about ready to stab something else a little harder. "It's too fucking _big_! Even if I could fucking _lift_ it, there ain't no way I could get that thing out!"

"You gotta turn it sideways-like," Magoughin supplied.

He was standing in the doorway in these plaid pajamas with his hands tilted like he was flipping something over. His grin almost cracked his face.

"Bastion damn you, Magoughin, you weren't supposed to _tell_!" someone griped from behind him.

"I'm just being helpful," Magoughin said over his shoulder. Then he turned back our way and smiled again.

Adamo started swearing a blue streak and shaking his fist at Magoughin and pointing at the couch, like it was gonna get his proper bed moved back in any quicker. Magoughin just shrugged and smiled, not a care in the world. I slipped around him and out into the hall, no mean feat with a man that size.

"If everyone's finished making an untimely ruckus, I'd like to get back to my proverbial beauty sleep," Raphael yawned.

"Speaking of _beauty_ ," mused Niall.

"Are you talking about my sister, Niall?" Merritt accused. "I thought I told you to shut your damn mouth about her!"

"Go back to bed, you idiots!" Ivory snapped, and slammed his door.

"What's going on?" asked Ace.

"Damn it, Magoughin!" Adamo snapped. "If I gotta tell you _one more time_ to--"

 _Bastion_ , the whole lot of 'em was bat-shit bell-cracked! I was getting the fuck out of there before something even worse went down. Didn't matter how I had noplace to go; I just needed to make myself scarce. I headed down the hall, turned a corner-- the place was full of fucking corners-- and ran smack into Ghislain.

"Everyone's getting bored with you now. You're old news," he said, and clapped me on the back so hard I staggered. He flashed me a bright white smile. "Congratulations."

I swore at nobody and nothing in particular and went down to see my girl.

"Hey, sweetheart," I said, and grabbed a cloth to polish her up with.

"What are you doing down here in the middle of the damn night? " she asked me, yawning and flicking her tail. " I'm already clean. Go back to bed."

"Everybody else here's went nuts," I told her. "I needed a dose of sanity."

"Oh. Want me to maim someone for you?" she asked. 

"See?" I said, setting to rubbing her flank. "The world already makes more sense, and I ain't been down here but a minute."

She snorted and held out her leg so as I could reach where the metal plates of her hide slid together. Maybe she said she wasn't dirty, but she sure did like being cleaned up. She shifted this way and that, spreading her wings and raising her tail and looking over her shoulder while I shined her. Preening was what my girl was doing, 'cause she fucking _loved_ how I did her. But she wasn't some woman, so if she wanted to pretend otherwise, I wasn't gonna call her on it. 

"I'll be quick about it," she told me after a while. "The maiming. Unless, of course, you'd like me to take my time and do a really fucking bang-up job of it…"

I laughed and was about to give her the okay when I heard Amery's voice. It was low and quiet and coming from the pen next to me, where Anastasia was kept.

"Well, well," I murmured, and gave Have one last rub with the cloth. She shot me a look I couldn't read as I stood. 

"Thought you were cleaning me up," she said.

"Thought you said you was already clean," I reminded her. I patted her side, tossed down the cloth, and made my way toward paying Amery a visit, feeling all of a sudden like whistling. On the way out, I blew a kiss to my Ke-Han lady prints. Maybe this day wouldn't turn out as shit as it started.

Amery was standing beside Anastasia, wiping her down. She was almost clean, sparkling in the dim light of the paddock. He'd went out on the raid with Adamo but hadn't yet visited the showers, and he was covered head to toe in soot. Even his hair was dingy and dull. The only part of him that wasn't soiled as a loose woman's reputation was 'round his eyes where his goggles had sat.

"Never thought I'd see the day where _you're_ the filthy one," I told him. I sort of liked it on him.

He paused for a second, his hand still against his girl's back, like he was thinking he might ignore me, or lash out, or something else equally stupid. Then started back up again. "I have ten more minutes until my shower slot," he answered. "I always wait for the others to finish first. It's only polite."

"Yeah?" I said, grinning. "Want me to lick you clean?"

He made a noise like somebody's offended aunt, but still didn't turn my way.

"So this is Anastasia, huh?" I said. I'd saw peeks of her before, but I hadn't never been so close. She was smaller than I'd expected-- about half Havemercy's size and not even as big as Natalia-- and this brilliant shiny silver-blue color. She looked sleek and smooth, and sharp somehow, like she could cut the air like a knife. I hadn't seen Amery on her yet, but I bet he rode her real graceful-like. Noticing my eyes on her, she cocked her head toward me.

I nodded. "Nice to make your acquaintance, doll," I told her.

"I am tired, John," Amery said, "and my back is killing me. Please leave."

I shrugged and didn't see why I should. "Been a while since we talked. You want me to--"

"What I _want_ is for you to leave. Also," he added, "stop using my soap. I have that imported, and it costs me a small fortune. If you want something beyond standard issue, buy your own instead of so noticeably pilfering someone else's."

I laughed and picked at a splinter of wood on the wall of the pen, all casual-like. I was surprised it had took him this long to say something. His soap was down to a fucking sliver.

Standard issue for the showers was this heavy-duty stuff with grit in it to scrub off the ash, and shampoo that made your scalp tingle, but a few of the men had something special. You kept your own personal stuff in the cubbyholes by the door so you didn't have to search all over hell in the half-dark of the night to find it. 

Have had kept on staying real particular about me being clean, and since I'd got here, I must've used more water than the whole of Molly. One day I was standing under the spray of hot water priming my own pump (if you know what I mean) and thinking on how good Amery always smelled. My eyes happened to fall on them cubbies. Afterwards, I went over and gave 'em all a sniff, found the scent I was looking for, and figured I was entitled. And fuck if I didn't smell sweet as anything.

"Wouldn't be any good if it was _my_ soap," I told him. "I like it 'cause it's _yours_. When I use it--"

"John," he warned, 'cause he knew me pretty well.

"When I _use_ it," I repeated, "it smells so good, it's almost like I'm down on my knees with my mouth around your--"

"Do _not_ speak in that manner in front of Anastasia!" he snapped, finally looking my way. If looks could kill…

Anastasia turned her head toward him, blinking clear, silvery eyes. "Speak in what manner, darling?"

I gaped at the both of 'em for a minute and then started laughing. "You two are a match made in a fucking nursery," I told 'em. "Twin babes suckling the same tit. You know that?"

Amery stiffened, going red in the face. His hands clenched into fists inside his sooty gloves. They weren't his usual ones, but the black riding gloves that was Corps issue. They still looked pretty nice on him. "You are easily the most disrespectful man with whom I have ever had the ill fortune to become acquainted," he bit out.

"Yeah," I said, grinning 'cause this was going just the way I wanted, "well you're a fucking _woman_."

I turned on my heel after I said it, and headed back toward Have. Amery was hissing my name, not about to take an insult like that, and I slowed up a second 'til I heard him coming after me. He was hot on my heels as I slipped into my girl's pen.

" _John_ ," he said, but I didn't let him talk. I grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him up against the wall. Maybe it wasn't my room he was coming to, but it was close enough. He was in _my_ territory, an arm's reach away from _my_ dragon, and I was through with his horseshit games. 

"You know what else I like besides that soap?" I whispered into his ear, keeping him pinned with one hand as I went for his jacket buttons with the other. His body felt warm and solid against mine, and it set my heart to beating nice and quick.

"Let _go_ of me," he hissed. His hand pressed against my chest, but it didn't push me away. I knew it wouldn't.

"I like wearing your clothes," I whispered, nipping at his earlobe. "'Specially your underwear. When I put 'em on, it's almost like I'm _you_ …"

Amery's fingers bit into my skin. "This is not…" he swallowed.

I chuckled. "Maybe it ain't right _now_ ," I told him, and dipped my tongue into his ear, "but it's _gonna_ be real quick. And you're gonna _scream_ for it."

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say-- or maybe it was just right-- 'cause he tensed up just like that and shoved me clear across the pen. He was a damn strong son-of-a, and my back slammed against something so hard, it knocked the breath right out of my lungs. But I was ready for it, and I'd grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him along with me, just about pulling him off his feet. He was all but sprawled over me now, holding onto my shoulder so as he didn't fall. The ash from his uniform left dingy smears across my clothes. 

I wrapped my free hand around his neck and brought my mouth back to his ear.

Amery fought it, but it was all show. I knew he'd give in. He couldn't turn me down if he wanted to. I did him too good for that. 

"We need to stop," he murmured, even while his hips slid against mine. I could feel through his pants how stiff he was already, how bad he wanted me.

"Fuck that," I answered, and licked a trail up his neck. His skin was salty and bitter, ash mixed with sweat, and it smeared a greasy film over my lips. I could _taste_ the air raid on him, the adrenaline pumping, metal wings beating, and flame scorching Ke-Han flesh and bone. It sent a shiver through me.

Whatever Amery was holding me up against felt real good too-- smooth but cold through the fabric of my clothes. It bumped out and pressed against my back, making it hard to breathe in the best sort of way when Amery slid his thigh up between mine. 

And then I realized.

It was Have.

He'd pinned me up against my own fucking _dragon_ , the bastard! Why she hadn't said nothing was beyond me; maybe she was waiting to see how this whole thing played out. My clever girl had something in mind, that was for sure, but I couldn't much think about it. I was too busy tugging at Amery's jacket, all but ripping it off his shoulders. And he was too busy cursing and gasping and mumbling a bunch of horseshit about how we shouldn't be doing this.

Well, I sure didn't know what the fuck _that_ was about. This was like as not my best idea yet. In fact, it was really getting me going-- my blood pounding in my ears and head reeling like I'd been tipping the bottle. I had Amery against my front, all hot and needful and smearing me with ashy ecstasy, and Have behind me, cold and sharp and deadly beautiful.

"Please," Amery moaned. His hands grabbed at my sides, and the hardness in his pants was pressed tight against my hip. His thigh slid along the length of my cock.

It got me trembling something fierce, feeling him up against me like that. 

I reached down between us, itching to get things going, but he was pressed in too close for me to get at his belt buckle. "Hey," I murmured, rubbing my hand against his front. "Hey, let me…"

He gasped when I finally got my hand in, his fingers digging into me. " _Oh_ ," he managed.

Have shifted behind me, her side sliding against my back and pressing me even closer to Amery. It was almost too much. I was hard as _fuck_ , and it was so hot inside Amery's pants, my hand squeezed tight between his stomach and my hip, all I could think of was squeezing something _else_ up next to him. It was fucking pathetic, me getting all hot and bothered from just being pressed against him, but I didn't care.

I wanted his mouth on me, wrapped 'round my fingers like he done before. He'd lick and suck, and use just the right amount of teeth, and moan so as it felt like he had his tongue all over my whole self. It would've been too much though, and somehow not enough, so I didn't do it. I _couldn't_. 

Instead, I reached down past my own waistband and grabbed onto my own self.

"John," Amery whispered. He'd saw what I was doing, and his cock jerked in my hand. He liked it. My airman liked everything I did.

I didn't say nothing-- couldn't've formed the words if I wanted to-- just got a steady rhythm going, squeezing good and hard, and moved my hips so I slid against both him and Have. It was like a fucking wet-dream-come-true, even though I hadn't never imagined nothing this damn amazing. I had both Amery and me in my hands, pumping something fierce, and my girl behind me, a bigger turn-on than any woman. It was like my whole body was on fire. 

I rolled my head back against Have, trying to breathe proper and keep myself from trembling so bad. Her metal was soothing cool against my cheek, and I moaned at the sensation.

Amery ran his hands up and down me, over my chest and stomach, up neck and across my cheek. His gloved fingers slid against my lips. "I want to see you," he gasped out, " _watch_ you, please…"

It shouldn't've got to me like it did. But with the smell of dragons in the air, and that much stiff cock in my grasp, there wasn't no way I could help it. Amery's mouth was on my neck, his tongue sliding across my skin, teeth tugging at my earlobe, and I could feel it taking hold of me. Everything was too hot, too close, too fucking _much_ , and I was gonna lose it. Right there, with my hand down my fucking pants, I was gonna come my brains out, and Amery was gonna watch me do it. 

And after you done something that cindy, there's no going back.

I let it happen. Let it take me, grab hold of me, clench my insides like my fingers was doing on my cock, and tumbled over the edge with it. My shout rang in my ears over the sound of the blood pounding in my veins, but I didn't try to stop it. I squeezed my eyes shut and let it out, loud as my lungs could manage, riding the waves like I rode my girl, hard and strong, as I pumped hot and sticky into my palm.

It felt so good, it took me a minute before I realized what I just done. I just brought myself off in my _pants_ in front of Amery. My throat was dry, and I swallowed, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do _now_. I still had a hand around his cock, and it was still standing tall and proud and hard as Have's body behind me and ready for some fucking _action_. But my whole body felt like I'd just went on the longest training run of my _life_ , and there wasn't no way I could get enough friction going to finish the job. I didn't even know how I was still standing. I was dizzy as bastion.

Talk about fucking _awkward_.

But Amery didn't seem to mind in the least. He leaned in close and pulled my hand out of my pants. My fingers was webbed with what all the excitement had left there, and he looked at 'em real serious, like he was coming up with some kind of damn attack strategy.

I cleared my throat and wondered if I could wrench my other hand free from around his cock and get to one of my knives so as I could slit my throat before I fucking died of _embarrassment_.

But then, taking hold of my wrist, Amery pulled my hand to his mouth and started licking off my fingers.

I gasped at the feel of it, his hot tongue sliding over my skin. He traced along the edges of my fingers, dipping down into the sensitive places between. I let loose a moan when he took my thumb into his mouth. My own mouth was hanging open like a halfwit, my eyes tracing Amery's every move. His face was smeared and streaked with ash from where his skin had rubbed against me, and his lips glistened with what he was licking off my hand. What _he'd_ had a big part in putting there.

"Fuck," I murmured. I was pretty shocked I got the word out. 

Amery moaned and popped his hips, sliding his cock against my palm. It was hot and leaking against my skin, filled so full that every vein stood out along the shaft, the head thick and ridged above. I wanted my mouth around it.

It was fucking insane and downright impossible, but I was starting to get hard again. By the time I brought my airman off, I was gonna be all but begging for it. I rolled my shoulders back against Havemercy, a shiver jolting down my spine, and tried to figure what the fuck I should do about it.

"Hey stupid! Anastasia's _that_ way! Do I gotta tell you everything ten times 'fore it sinks into your fucking _brain_?" someone yelled.

"Yeah, yeah! Go back to Tuesday Street where you fucking belong, cocksucker!" someone yelled back.

It took me a minute before I knew what was happening. The rough Molly accents and cursing could mean only one thing: the handlers were coming to get the girls settled in. And seeing as how Amery'd been out tonight, we had about half a minute before one of the little whoresons poked his nosy head in our direction and got himself a real eyeful.

" _Bastion_ ," cursed Amery. He pulled away, straightened up his pants, and strode out of Have's stall.

That left me all alone against her, both hands sticky, my face and formerly clean clothes smudged all over with greasy char. My cock throbbed in my pants, and I could all but taste Amery's come on my tongue.

" _Fuck_ ," I repeated. 

"Get any of that on me, and you die," my girl announced, all rumbling annoyance. "And if that's what _sex_ is about, you foul little son-of-a, you'd better not mention it in my presence again, or bastion help me, I'll…"

She kept on going, telling me how she was gonna make me sorry I ever got squeezed out between my mother's thighs, but I didn't listen. Down the way, I heard a shout and the unmistakable crack of a handler's jaw being broke. I knew what it meant: Amery'd meted out punishment for the kid interrupting us, and bought me some time in the process. It was just the way I'd've done it, too. The stinking Mollyrat fuckup deserved it.

I laughed, feeling sort of giddy, and headed up for a shower, hoping I could get there without anyone seeing and asking why the fuck I was filthy dirty. Luckily, Amery's shower slot was still open. And he'd put out a whole new bar of soap.

*****

I'd just laid down to sleep that night when somebody knocked on my door. There was only one person I knew that would knock like that-- all measured and polite-- and only one reason I could see why he'd be doing it. I hadn't saw him since our little meet-up down below, and I was up and out of my bed to let him in quicker than Hilary could catch a grammar mistake.

Amery looked all calm and put-together like always, but somehow better too, after what had happened with that handler. I didn't know why, but the idea of him beating the living shit out of some other body on my account got my blood pumping. I felt sort of like I'd stole a pair of pants and found a gold ring in one of the pockets, or been paid to deliver a package to somebody's brand new wife, and had wound up giving it to her for the next hour in the nuptial bed. He was a wolf in white kidskin gloves, this one, and I was pretty fucking happy with it. 

If that made me a Cindy, I guess I didn't much care.

"You coming in?" I asked when he didn't.

"Could we," he said, tugging at those gloves of his, "I think… we need to talk, John. If I could, please… just to talk, nothing more."

That had me feeling disappointed, but I let him in anyway. Talking could lead to other things, and I'd see my way towards making those things happen. "Talk, huh?" I said, and slid down onto my mattress. I undid one of the buttons at my neck and ran a finger across my collarbone, just to make sure I had his attention. "Like they say, talk is cheap, but it takes money to buy--"

"I cannot continue in such a fashion," he interrupted. "I apologize, but I need to know where I stand… where _we_ stand… in this, well, _whatever-it-is_ in which we seem to have so inextricably involved ourselves. I require this, John. I'm sorry."

"In-extra- _what_?" I said.

He sighed and started pacing across my floor. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. It was kind of annoying.

"Look, you gonna sit down, or what?" I asked. "You're making me jumpy, being all antsy like that."

He shook his head again but sat down beside me anyway. "John," he said, "I really do like you."

"Well that's a fucking revelation," I snorted.

"What I _mean_ ," he corrected, hands folded in his lap, "is that I enjoy the time we spend with each other and the closeness we share. From the moment I met you, I knew there was something different about you. I had no idea that such a chance encounter would lead to something that… but no. I cannot continue existing this way."

"Existing _what_ way?" I asked. "I don't get it."

"If we could only…" he frowned and bit at his bottom lip. "I enjoy being intimate with you, but I need to feel that what we are doing is more than just that. Something with deeper meaning. I wish that we could be friends."

I was never gonna figure this bastard out. _Friends?_ What the fuck kind of stupid idea was that? "I don't need no _friends_ ," I told him. 

"Yes," he agreed, "I realize this. But even setting aside my moral compunctions, all of the secrets and hiding are wearing me to the bone. It is impossible for me to interact with you around the others without feeling entirely obvious in my intentions. I know so little about you, and I would feel much at ease if only I had some other reason-- some _explanation_ \-- as to why two so entirely different people would be so close. Some explanation besides, well…"

"Fucking?" I offered.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. That. Please, John. It would not require much. We could simply spend time with each other as we did on Basquiat Day. We could take a trip or two into the city, share our likes and dislikes, tell a few stories about our youth…"

"And if I say I don't want to make palsy-walsy with you?" I asked, feeling pretty annoyed.

"Then I would have to call this entire thing off," he answered, "and for good this time, John. Officially. Which would be a terrible shame, as I feel that we have only just begun to explore the possibilities."

"That's the biggest load of horseshit I ever heard," I told him, real sharp-like.

"It is non-negotiable. I am sorry," he answered.

I was fucking steamed, let me tell you. Here he was making demands on me like he was th'Esar himself. All he was missing was the fucking _crown_. Did he think I had all this spare time to waste on telling him how I used to have to steal my supper? How I got down on my knees in back alleys to pay for Hilary's schoolbooks? I needed a friend about like a whore needed a chastity belt. Sure there was some men that liked that sort of thing, really got off on fiddling with the buckles and keyholes, but it was all just wasted effort to me.

"You'll change your mind," I told him.

"I will not," he answered.

I knew from his tone how he meant it. Of course I could get him to see my way of thinking somewhere down the road, but he'd like as not be real pissy about it. I didn't feel like dealing with it; drawing things out would only be wasting the effort in a different way. Now it wasn't like I _needed_ Amery or nothing. But we got along pretty good, and it was just best to keep things patched up in case I wanted him for something. That and my brother would kill me if Balfour stopped writing him. The two of 'em had became pen friends, and half Hilary's letters was _Balfour this_ and _Balfour that_. Which gave me an idea:

"Fine," I told Amery with a shrug of my shoulders. "You wanna be buddies? Friends with benefits or whatever? It ain't no skin off _my_ back. You can come out with me this Friday after I visit Hilary, and we can get drinks. Adamo's gave me the whole night off since I'm gonna get worked into the rotation pretty quick."

He sighed. "You know I always sign up for raids with Ivory on Fridays, John."

"Yeah?" I said. "Well that's the only time off I got, so if us being friends is so important to you, you can just find somebody to take your place, can't you? Switch 'em up a night or two. What about Luvander? He don't fly again 'til Monday."

He shook his head. "Luvander would as soon butcher me where I stand than exchange duty with me." 

"Why? What's _he_ got against you?" I asked.

"Perhaps you recall that when we first met, Luvander was out of commission due to a dislocated shoulder? It was one of the reasons why it took me so long to return to visit you," he said, and I nodded, remembering it. "I… may have been the one who dislocated it." 

"You _may have been_?" I repeated, staring at him.

"It was really his own fault for speaking to me with such blatant disrespect, but it was _technically_ I who did the damage," he admitted.

"Whoa," I said. "Hold up. Luvander said something you didn't like, and you fucking _broke his shoulder_?"

" _Dislocated_ ," he corrected, without a single sign of remorse. "Not broke. It healed in a few weeks. And though I fail to remember his exact wording, I assure you that he deserved it."

"Fuck," I said, and shook my head.

"Are you criticizing my judgment?" he asked, real snappish.

"No, I think it's pretty fucking clever," I told him. "There's times I'd like to dislocate the bastard's _face_. I'm just remembering how you asked me that time about my knives and if I'd really killed men with 'em, and you seemed pretty put-out when I said how I had. That's like some kind of double standard right there."

"Ah. Well, I was only asking, not finding fault," he explained.

I nodded, 'cause it was all starting to make sense. No wonder Have liked him from the start: my airman was one nasty son-of-a, and it went way beyond punishing idiot handlers. Guess I should've figured, seeing as how he got along so good with _me_. My girl had incredible taste.

"Yeah, I see that now. Look, Friday's the only time I got. And I was gonna spend the whole night with Hilary, so I'm already changing things up for you, and he's gonna be real disappointed. If there's one thing I hate, it's disappointing my brother. So if you wanna get friendly in public with our clothes still on, you gotta make some sacrifices, too. Find somebody else that likes flying with Ivory. It's called _compromise_."

"I know what compromise is," he told me, looking put out. "I can even spell it."

"Then what's stopping you, genius?" I asked.

He sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. "Perhaps I could ask Raphael…"


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

At the Pantheon Bar, you could buy a glass of liquor that cost as much as a whole night with a whore on Hapenny. Two, if she wasn't a looker. Amery was currently spilling one of those drinks all over our table.

"Shit," he said, and I laughed.

"You got a real pretty mouth on you when you drink too much, you know that?" I told him. "I ain't never heard you say more than _bastion_ or _damn_ before."

"Mmm," he answered, frowning and dabbing at his spill with a napkin. It didn't do much, and he ended up just wiping the whole mess onto the floor. It dripped down in amber spatters onto the marble. "So, where were we?"

"Uh, Amazement, Pantheon Bar, boys' night out?" I offered, gesturing to the room packed full of happily imbibing patrons, 'cause I was in that sort of mood. "How much have you _had_ , you fucking lush?"

"I need another," he told me. "I've quite tragically spilled my drink and am now in _dire_ need of additional refreshment."

I snorted and took a drink of mine. I was feeling pretty good, but not near as loose as Amery. He was drinking like it was water and spending like coin was sand, slipping right through his fingers. And he sounded like Raphael when he was drunk. I told him so.

"When Raphael is drunk, he cannot string two words together with a needle and thread," he told me. "But he is not drunk _tonight_ because he is quite obligingly covering my shift. And I am not drunk either. I am pleasingly intoxicated."

" _Drunk_ ," I told him, and flagged down a bar maid so as we could get us another round. She was a sweet little thing, and I had a bit of fun teasing her while Amery took his time deciding what he wanted to drink. You'd think the whole fate of Volstov rested on his order.

"So," he said when we were alone again, or at least as alone as you could be in a place like this. It was pretty packed, and you had to speak up or lean in just to make your own voice heard. "I believe we were talking about your war wounds, so to speak."

"Oh yeah," I said, and rubbed at the scar under my eye. I'd told him about the knife fights and some of the other horseshit I'd got myself involved in before I knew better. Didn't get into describing nothing too incriminating though, like the high-stakes swindling or whoring myself out. If he guessed I was holding back, he had brains enough not to mention it. "So what about yours?"

"My what?" he asked.

I snorted. "Your _war wound_. You know, that great big scar you got across your chest? Or was you born without a nipple?"

He frowned and took hold of my glass.

"That one's mine," I told him. "Yours ain't here yet."

He shrugged, downed a gulp of my drink and announced, "I was climbing a tree."

"A tree," I repeated, giving up on the drink. I was getting another one anyway. "What the fuck were you doing climbing a tree?"

"Well," he answered, "it was on account of the birds. There was a nest, you see. I was quite young."

"Oh. So you fell out of it, then? Branch broke or something?" I asked.

He shook his head, frowning. "No, not that time. My little sister was being born on the second story."

"Little _sister_?" I said, confused as hell. "Since when do you got a sister?"

"She is just over a year younger than Balfour. A very pretty girl. I shall never introduce you to her," he told me. "In fact, let us pretend that she does not exist."

"Hey!" I protested. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And what the fuck does your little sister have to do with birds and trees and that scar you got?"

Amery set my drink down on the table. He was grinning, having a real gay time of it, his face red from the liquor but still real nice to look at. His hand, all perfect and white-gloved, slid over mine, soft against my skin. "You are so terribly attractive that I often find it difficult to breathe in your presence. Did you know that?"

This weird heat shot through me that had less to do with what he was saying-- 'cause I had men say that kind of thing a dozen times back in Molly, only with worse grammar and followed by "How much?"-- and more to do with the way he was looking at me. His eyes were all dark like thunderheads, and deep like I could fall into 'em. My heart fluttered in my chest like it was trying to get out. 

"You're drunk," I told him. 

He shook his head. "I'm really not."

I looked down at my hand, resting on the tabletop with Amery's on top of it. People were gonna think all sorts of wrong things seeing us like that. Was that what he wanted? To show me off, or stake some kind of claim? Should that idea bother me more than it did?

I pulled away.

"Look," I said. I wasn't too sure just what I was planning on saying, so I was pretty relieved when the bar maid came with our drinks. I took a big gulp of mine, and it burned nice and sweet all the way down.

Amery held his and just looked at it, like he didn't know what to do with the thing. "We should go someplace," he said.

I took another slug, just looking at him. I liked looking at him. "We _are_ someplace."

He shook his head. "No, someplace better. With something more to do."

"More to do?" I said. "Fuck, what else _is_ there?"

Far as I could see, they had about everything in this place: a grand piano playing across the way, darts up front, knife fights in the back, gambling at every other table, and liquor flowing like a river. And all of it fucking _shined_ , like it was just built yesterday, clean and white and polished, with high ceilings and carved panels on the walls. Even the people were different, all decked out in fancy suits and white-toothed smiles; none of the stinking rabble you'd find drinking in Molly. I hadn't never seen nothing like it before in my life.

"Our Lady of a Thousand Fans," Amery said. "We should go."

I got me a pretty good laugh out of _that_ one. 

But Amery was standing up, pushing in his chair like it was a done deal. He didn't wobble on his feet near as much as I'd thought he would. "This night is meant to build camaraderie and shared experiences, and I see no better way. My treat, of course. I realize that your budget is rather tight at the moment. I am sure that you shall enjoy it, and if not, we can simply leave."

I would've laughed again if I hadn't saw how he was serious about it. He was setting a handful of coin on the table and taking a stab at downing his whole drink in one go. Yeah, that was about the _last_ thing he needed right now. I got up and pulled it away from his lips.

"If you puke that all over yourself, I ain't cleaning you up," I lied.

"Taste it," he said, and brought the glass to my lips. "It's delicious."

It _was_ delicious. It had this kind of smoky flavor to it, and just a touch of sweet to make it go down smooth. I rolled the taste around in my mouth, savoring it. Compared to his, my drink was nothing. So _this_ was what separated the noblesse from the urchins.

Amery was standing too close, his hand still on the glass even though I'd took hold of it. He was watching my mouth, sort of hypnotized. When I licked off my lips, his tongue darted across his also, like he wished he could taste what I was tasting. The fingers of his free hand pressed into my hip, then slid down to cup my backside.

I just about choked on my own tongue. There must've been three hundred people in this place, and here he was, touching on me like we were gonna start going at it atop the nearest bench. It was fucking _unbelievable_ , and it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my cock. 

"You trying to get fresh with me, airman?" I asked, my breath coming a little too quick.

He licked his lips again, tilted the drink to his own mouth, and took a sip. His eyes burned into mine. His fingers traced the curve of my ass. "We should go," he said.

"Yeah," I mumbled, and somehow managed to get the drink back onto the table without spilling too much of it.

Our Lady wasn't far, and I walked there with my arm around Amery's waist in case he stumbled. That sort of thing would get you laughed at for a Cindy in the Mollywastes, but none of the fancy sons-of-a here thought much of it. It was slow going, but I didn't much care. It wasn't too cold a night, and I'd helped myself to Amery's jacket again.

The thing was, I wasn't even sure I wanted to be visiting a whorehouse just now. I wasn't blitzed like Amery or nothing, but even so, it wasn't gonna take much to finish me off. If I was getting my entertainment paid for, I wanted to be able to enjoy it proper, and it was real clear that wasn't happening tonight. Just the feel of Amery against my side had me so stiff, the rub of my pants while I walked was almost too much.

And that wasn't the only thing. Once I got there and got my senses filled up with perfume and powdered breasts and feminine laughter, what the fuck was Amery gonna do with _his_ self? Sit out in the parlor chatting about the weather while I gave it to some whore in the next room? 'Cause on Basquiat Day he was pretty pissed-- possessive bastard as he was-- when I left him to go fuck that girl. Did he think I was gonna do her where he could _watch_? 

And that's when it clicked.

With the sort I was used to back in Molly, all they wanted was to get their pleasure. But there was some men-- and I was one of 'em-- that wanted to think they _gave_ pleasure same as they got it. It wasn't just about enjoying the screams and moans of fake bliss that whores made to get you off quicker and better. It was more than that. Like if I was screwing some girl and she wasn't getting into it just as much as me, I felt like I was doing a bad job of things even if I was having a grand old time doing it. 

So I guess it was a real slap in the face when I told Amery how I didn't want him tickling me back. Like as not hurt his pride or his manhood or something. Would've left _me_ feeling pretty sore. And now he wanted to buy me something that really got me going so as he could have this feeling of how it was _him_ that'd done it for me.

It all made sense. I don't know how I hadn't saw it before. 

But then I had this real awful thought: maybe I was wrong. The alcohol was kind of fuzzing up my brain, so I couldn't figure if I was logic-ing it through right or not. Did he want to go there to buy his _own_ pleasure, some thin-limbed, sweet-tongued little thing with painted lips and oiled thighs that knew tricks I couldn't even dream of? 

I didn't like it. I didn't like it one fucking bit.

"You sure they're gonna let us in when we been drinking so heavy?" I asked Amery. "I heard the nicer places don't."

"It won't be a problem," he told me.

"Well, it's pretty late anyway," I said after a minute. "Maybe we should save it for next time."

"It's not as though they _close_ , John," he answered, laughing a little.

That wasn't what I wanted to hear, but I didn't know what else to say about it. I didn't feel like arguing, and I didn't feel like explaining. I just didn't want him tasting something better than what I had to offer and deciding this whole "friends" thing was all he wanted from me. 'Cause if he did, I might have to kill him for touching on my ass in public.

"Look," I said. "I ain't feeling it. Not in the mood right now. Hilary'd kill me if he guessed I skipped out on him for a woman again-- he all but flayed me after the last time. Let's just call it a night."

"And go back to the Airman?" he asked. He stumbled a little against me, and I pulled him back onto his feet.

"Wherever," I told him, holding him close a little longer than I should've just 'cause it felt so good, "but we should probably get a carriage."

"Ah," he said, and stumbled again. "A carriage would be splendid."

But finding a ride back was easier said than done. We were kind of off the beaten trail, cutting through side streets toward the lit white dome of Our Lady in the distance. You had to be on a main street to find a carriage this time of night, and I was fucked if I knew how to get to one. Amery wasn't much help. I think he thought it was funny. 

"Here," he told me. "Turn down this street… no, to the left. Whitstone Road is just up the way, I would bet my life on it."

I didn't know if he was screwing with me or what, so I just went where he said. It was this alley that was pretty dark without gaslights, and I scoped it out quick-like to make sure there wasn't no cutpurses hiding in the shadows. That was _all_ we needed tonight.

"When we get back," Amery said, leaning against me, "could we… would it be alright if I… ah…"

"Spit it out," I told him.

"I… would like to come to your room," he managed. "If that would be acceptable."

I had to swallow before I answered. My mouth had went dry. "You ain't gotta ask or nothing. You should know you can come whenever you want. If that's why you-- damn it, where the hell are you _going_?"

He'd pushed off me real sudden and was making his way toward the nearest wall. When he got there, he put his hand against it and sort of leaned in, his other hand going somewhere near his middle.

"Are you taking a piss?" I asked. "'Cause I don't think they like you pissing on the streets in Miranda."

He snorted. "I am not taking a piss. I am making detailed psychological provisions."

"Yeah? Why's that?" I asked. Psycho- _what_?

"Come here," he said.

I sighed and made my way over, wondering what his stupid-drunk ass was up to. 

"John," he said, and pushed me up against the building.

"Hey!" I protested, but he didn't listen. He'd went down on his knees and, with fingers more nimble than they had any right to be, undid my belt. My head reeled, trying to think through the haze of drink as he tugged open my pants.

"Oh, _John_ ," he murmured, and buried his face in the vee of white fabric behind my fly.

I'd been hard for a good long while, and just the feel of him had me gasping, sending real nice sensations all through me. His fingers eased open the fabric of my pants, his mouth pressing in against my underwear at the base of my cock. He mouthed my length, wrapping his lips around me, moving up 'til he had the tip between his lips. He gave the barest hint of a suck and then pressed his teeth softly into my flesh.

"Uuuh," I moaned.

His fingers hooked over the top of my underwear and pulled 'em down.

"What about," I panted, my fingers twining into his hair, "what about my _room_?"

"Couldn't wait that long," he breathed against my skin.

When his tongue slid against me, impossibly hot and wet, I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming. He pressed it flat against me then ran the tip up the vein on the underside, leaving a trail of heat behind. I was expecting him to take me into his mouth then, but he didn't. He blew against my skin, cooling the burning heat where his tongue had been, and sending chills up and down my spine.

"Oh fuck," I breathed, shivering and trembling against him. My fingers tightened in his hair and drew him closer.

But he wasn't done yet. He dipped down and nuzzled in beneath my cock, breath puffing against my skin. His tongue flicked out and slid against my balls. He took each one into his mouth in turn, rolling 'em around with his tongue, gentle and blissful and sending sparks all through me. All the while, his fingers kneaded into the muscle of my backside.

I was so hard by then, I was aching with it. A bead of liquid formed on the tip of my cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Amery," I murmured.

He pulled me closer, sucking harder, so it bordered on pain. He was gonna do me in, the whoreson, doing me like that. My balls was pulled up tight beneath my cock, hot and achy and not wanting to hold back their burden no longer.

I rubbed my fingers into the precome on my cockhead, smearing it over my heated skin. More gushed out to take its place, slick and hot and running down over my fingers.

"Hurry up," I whispered. "Amery, _hurry_."

"Impatient," he murmured, and looked up at me with such a debauched look on his face, it was all I could do not to lose it just looking at him.

So I did what I had to do: I yanked him to me by the hair and shoved my cock down his throat. 

He gagged, his hands gripping too hard into my ass.

"Yeah, that's how you like it, ain't it, airman," I breathed, my voice hitching. "Cock down your throat so as you can't hardly breathe…"

He moaned, and I shuddered. Of _course_ he liked it. He liked it any way I gave it to him, 'specially hard and fast and laced with raw power. He was just like my girl, this one-- _just_ like her. Havemercy and him was two of the same. I was the fucking master of 'em both.

My vision swam with that thought, and I tipped my head back against the brick I was leaning on, so close I couldn't stand it no more. I tried to tell Amery how I was gonna come, but the words wouldn't form. A moan left my lips instead as I jacked my hips, pressing Amery's nose against my stomach. And then it was on me. The orgasm clenched tight in my guts, like my fist in my airman's hair, and had me shooting hot and sweet right down his throat.

He choked on it, his throat going tight around me, squeezing so nice, my vision started to go black as the pleasure shot through me. When I thought I was done, another shiver shot through me, my head reeled, and I pumped out another round, moaning and trembling and gasping, " _Amery, Amery, Amery_ …"

I was sort of still out of it when he pulled away. I blinked and tried to make the world stop swirling around me, but by the time I managed it, Amery was at the end of the alley calling my name. I swore and stuffed myself back in my pants, wincing when too-tender skin brushed against the fabric. 

I shook out my hands but couldn't get 'em to stop shaking.

Amery was smiling when I got to him. His face was flushed and pleased, his soft lips swollen. "You see? I told you I knew where we were," he said. He was gesturing toward a brightly-lit square with a carriage sitting at the ready on the corner.

I followed him to it, not so steady on my feet as I could've been. You'd think _I_ was the one that was smashed half out of their mind. Amery gave the driver an address near the Airman, some hotel maybe, and we piled into the car. He sat real close and wrapped an arm 'round my shoulder.

I was sort of numb-like, not quite sure what the fuck had just hit me. Wasn't it Have that had made it so sweet last time, and the raid that Amery'd just went on? Amery was acting like it wasn't any sort of big deal, like he did crazy shit like this all the time. And with the skills he had, I figured maybe he did. I'd knew he had a mouth on him, but I hadn't guessed I was in for nothing like _that_! 

I looked out the window for a minute and then over at him, feeling stunned but not bad. Good, actually. _Real_ good. Amery's tongue flicked across his lips, and the edges quirked up into a smile.

"Going to make it, airman?" he asked.

I laughed a little, my voice sounding light and young, but couldn't get my mind off those lips and how they'd just been around my cock and how good it was for me. That mouth of his was sure something. Something _real_ nice. And I wanted it back on me.

The carriage hit a bump, and Amery frowned, holding out his arm to steady us. I leaned in and brought my mouth to his.

He was hot and sweet, and I could taste myself on his lips. I pressed in past his teeth, sliding my tongue against his, slick and smooth and making me feel dizzy and lightheaded all over again. Amery kissed me back, tilting his head and running his hand behind my neck and sucking on my bottom lip.

I sure didn't know what the fuck I was doing this for, 'cause the last time we locked lips, I was about ready to skewer the bastard. But it felt good now-- _real_ good. Was it on account of that handler he'd took care of, and how he'd broke Luvander's arm, and us being all friendly-like? Was I drunker than I thought? Or was I just so easy, all I needed was a warm hole to stuff myself into, and I'd turn cindy for any old body?

I didn't care. It didn't matter. I ran my hand down Amery's front, dipped down between his thighs, and pressed the heel of my palm against his cock.

Amery moaned.

"Hey!" shouted the carriage driver. "None of that in my car! None of that cindy business, you hear me!"

He reined the horses in, jerking to a stop, pulling over alongside the road. Me and Amery got jostled something rough, and I swore as my head smacked back against the seat.

"Out!" the driver barked. He had a scruffy beard and looked kind of like a dog, so I guess it was fitting. "Out of my carriage before I _kick_ you out!"

I snorted 'cause anyone that thought he could kick me and Amery out of _anywhere_ was a real dunce. 

Amery was steamed. He was shouting and shaking his gloved fist real threatening-like. If he hadn't been a whole lot drunker than he thought he was, I bet he'd've pulled the bastard down off his seat and beat the life out of him. 

"Come on," I said, and tugged on his shoulder. "You ain't level-headed enough, and he ain't worth bloodying my knives over." Actually, I wouldn't've minded. But me and Amery was in the middle of something I wanted to get back to, and sticking some idiot like a pig wasn't gonna get us to it any quicker.

Amery swayed on his feet, taking hold of me to keep from falling flat onto his ass. The driver seemed to know he was in some kind of deep shit, and he set to whipping his horses. Amery slammed his fist against the side of the carriage as it drove off.

"Let's go," I said.

Amery sniffed, pulled his jacket straight, and called the driver a word I hadn't heard before but thought sounded pretty insulting nonetheless. I grinned.

"Where the fuck have you got us lost _now_?" I asked him.

"Where have _I_ got us--" Amery said, going all offended. But then he saw how I was messing with him and rolled his eyes. His mouth twitched into a smile. He was doing that a lot tonight, smiling. "We are no more than a few blocks from the Airman. There, do you see it?"

I looked where he was pointing and managed to see the big grey block of the Airman over top another building. It was just starting to get light out, the faint pinkish glow of dawn tingeing the horizon. I wondered if there had been a raid tonight, and if so, if the Corps that had went out was back yet. I didn't feel like dealing with 'em.

"Hey," I said, sliding my hand up his arm. I felt my face go warm and hoped to the bastion I wasn't blushing. "You still coming to my room when we get back?"

He shrugged and took my hand in his. "I may have an eye toward stopping in."

I snorted. "An eye toward it, huh?"

"Possibly," he told me.

" _Possibly_ ," I repeated, and twined our fingers together.

"Are you planning to parrot back every word I say to you?" he asked.

"Why, you want me to?" I asked. He gave me this look that got me laughing. It seemed like maybe he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. So we just walked together, hand-in-hand, the way I used to do with Hilary when he was a little kid. His shoulder brushed against mine, and I wasn't sure who was swaying, him or me.

No one was watching. It didn't matter.

And then I had this idea.

"Hey," I said, letting go of Amery's hand and stepping out in front of him. "New rules. You gotta catch me first."

"Like tag?" he asked.

"Yeah," I told him, ignoring the you-must-be-kidding look he gave me. "Like tag. Catch me, and you can have me."

"I thought I could have you whenever I wanted," he said. "Did you not just tell me so?"

I shook my head, not falling for the bait even though his words made me go a little funny inside, and turned around so as to look him in the eye. Maybe walking backwards while I was still tipsy wasn't my brightest idea. My heel caught on a loose stone, and I just about bit the dust. Amery reached out to save me, but I somehow managed to stay on my feet and pull my arm out of his grasp.

"Weak," I told him, grinning. "Real fucking weak. That all you got?"

"This is ridiculous," he announced.

"You're like to be going to bed alone tonight with a priss attitude like _that_ ," I told him. 

"I refuse to engage in such infantile nonsense," he announced. About a second later, he lunged toward me, and I laughed, slipping out of his way. We kept up like that all the way back-- Amery grabbing for me, and me darting in and out, teasing like a little kid. I knew how it was real stupid, but it didn't matter. Amery was amused, and it got my blood pumping again, adrenaline rushing through me at the thrill of almost getting caught.

By the time we got back to the Airman, we were both of us breathing hard. I was tired but full of this crazy energy, and I could tell Amery was too. He was still a bit tippy, but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. I let him catch me up at the door.

He slid a hand around my waist and drew me to him.

I brought my hands up his arms and around his shoulders. They rose and fell with his breath, heat radiating off him in the chill of the morning. The dark wool of our jackets blended together like a single thing. "Gonna give you a taste of something real special this time, airman," I told him, my voice low. "Something even better than that liquor we shared."

"I cannot imagine anything sweeter than what I have already had," he murmured. His lips got real close to mine, and I somehow knew he wasn't talking about the drink.

His mouth had just brushed mine, soft and warm, when I turned away. His lips met my cheek. "Not here," I told him.

"Your room?" he asked, moving on to my earlobe. The way he nipped it with his teeth had me pretty excited. "Catch me, and you can have me."

"What do you," I started, but I didn't get to finish. He'd took off before I could do a damn thing, tearing down the hallway like some kind of fucking crazy. 

I swore and then let out a whoop, and started after him. We weaved through the crooked hallway, me hot on his heels and thinking how I was gonna get him drunk every chance I had from now on. He turned the last corner in front of my door and slowed. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him to me. He didn't respond, went stiff against me and pulled away. Only took me a second to see why.

Every man jack of the Corps was standing out in the hall. 

They weren't doing nothing, just standing there by the kitchen. And none of 'em was smiling or joking or raising an eyebrow at how me and Amery had came in in such a rush. It was fucking weird. I looked to Amery to see if he knew what was up. His face had went hard as he looked at the others.

I looked at 'em too, really _looked_. There was Ace looking sleepy and stupid, and Magoughin in his ugly pajamas. Evariste's hair was messy as always, and Jeannot's lips was pressed together real serious-like. Compagnon didn't look too amused either, and Niall's girly mouth was twisted down funny at the corners. Luvander was too distracted to tell Merritt how he was standing way too close. The Chief Sergeant had his arms crossed, his unshaved jaw clenched. He was looking at Ghislain, who was black with ash from the raid and looking real unhappy about something. 

Beside him, Ivory was so pale under the grime, he was almost transparent. His eyes stared at nothing, shoulders slumped. His lips were blue. Something dark and wet was soaked into the front of his uniform.

"Where's Raphael?" I asked.

He was the only one that wasn't there, and he should've been standing next to Ghislain and Ivory in all their greasy glory. But he wasn't.

Nobody said nothing. You could've heard a pin drop. 

Then Ivory turned on his heel and strode down the hall. The bathroom door slammed. I guess he done it for privacy, but there wasn't none to be had around here. With everything so quiet, you could hear him clear as day puking his guts out.

Adamo sighed and finally looked at me. His eyes were red and tired. 

"Raphael is dead."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Chief Sergeant Adamo was explaining how the Ke-Han magicians had came up with some way of controlling the wind. They'd caught Natalia in some sort of fucking tornado and knocked Raphael straight off her. It was all the others could do to rein her in and retrieve the body without getting their own selves killed.

As he went through all the gory details, the whole place feeling real tense, my attention wandered. I knew I should've been listening closer, but my head felt sort of light, and I couldn't get my mind off Ivory. He was still in the bathroom gagging up his insides. 

Beside me, Amery was grim but kind of distant 'cause the liquor was still working in him. I wanted to fix him some coffee, but I'd like as not do it wrong-- put too much cream in it or not enough sugar or whatever-- so I didn't. But I wanted to.

After a while, some men from the Basquiat arrived, and Adamo met with 'em private-like. It took a real long time. Everybody else was sort of milling around, not sure what to do with themselves. 

Ghislain took a shower. 

When he got back, we was all still there, not moved much from where we were before. Merritt had sat down. Luvander took a piss. Magoughin had changed out of his pajamas. That was it.

"Alright, men," Adamo said when he came out. "Here's the deal. Listen up, and listen good."

I didn't. 

Ivory had stopped puking, but he hadn't came out yet, and I wanted to know what the fuck he was doing in there. Wasn't like I _cared_ or nothing. I pretty much hated the bastard. I just didn't know why nobody'd went in to check up on him and make sure he hadn't drowned himself in the toilet bowl. He'd do something like that; he was just that self-centered.

When Adamo was done, it was late afternoon. I followed Amery into his room. Nobody seemed to notice.

" _Fuck_ ," I said, locking the door behind us.

Amery slumped down onto his mattress. "I can hardly believe this," he murmured.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. It was longer now, down past my chin. The blue dye that had got in it was faded to grey. You could barely see it anymore.

"That could have been _me_ ," Amery said.

"Couldn't've been," I corrected. "You wouldn't've got caught up in something like that. You'd've saw through it."

He shook his head, looking miserable. "If you had not invited me out, and I had not switched shifts with Raphael…"

I unbuttoned my jacket and sat down beside him. "Well, it wasn't you," I told him. "So don't get yourself all worked up about it."

"He was not yet twenty-four," Amery frowned. He stared down at his hands, clasped in his lap, like they held some kind of answer. "Younger than I…"

"Look," I said, but came up blank. I didn't know how close he was to Raphael, or if he really _was_ a better pilot. Maybe I'd only make things worse by talking. Hilary said I did that sometimes. I finally decided on, "You hung over pretty bad?"

He didn't say nothing, just stared down at his hands.

I reached out and slid one of mine over the top of 'em. The leather was soft under my fingertips. Amery made a noise in his throat and tipped his head onto my shoulder. I pressed my nose into his hair, and it smelled so nice, like comfort, a cozy bed and a warm body in it. Like home.

Was it wrong how I wanted to lay back on his mattress and take him between my thighs right this fucking instant? It was wrong, wasn't it?

"Do you think this is my fault?" Amery murmured.

"What?" I said. "How could it be _your_ fault?"

"I cannot help but feel guilty," he answered. "If Anastasia and I had been there instead, perhaps none of this would have happened."

I gave his hand a squeeze and kissed the top of his head like I did Hilary when he was feeling down. "Yeah, now you're just fucking _depressing_ me. I liked you better when you were drunk."

He snorted, pressing his shoulder against mine. "I should really… I may have been slightly more intoxicated than I was able to recognize at the time. I did not intend to… well… I may have gotten slightly carried away."

"Apologize for any of it, and I'm gonna--" I almost said something stupid like _kill you_ , but I caught myself in time. Enough dying around this place as it was.

Amery sighed and pulled his hands out from under mine. I thought he was gonna lay down, but he didn't. He took the leather of his left glove between the fingers of his right hand and eased it off. Then he did the same thing to the other.

The skin of his hands underneath was pale, but there wasn't nothing special about it. They were just hands. Rough, callused hands, with long fingers and nails scrubbed so clean they shined like my girl. But in the end, just hands. He laid one of 'em on my thigh.

"I'm gonna go grab me something to eat from the icer," I said, standing up. It didn't feel right having him touch on me like that right now. Not with Raphael's mangled body down below waiting for the hearse to come. Unlucky or something. "You want anything?"

He shook his head, not meeting my eyes.

"I'll fix you a sandwich," I told him. "Be back in a minute."

But I never made it back.

After I got out of his room and got to puttering around in the kitchen, I started feeling all weird about the whole damn thing. Not just about Raphael, who I'd never much took to anyway, but about how things had worked out between Amery and me. Yeah, I liked kickin' it with Amery, and yeah, he sucked cock like he was fucking _born_ to be on his knees. A body would have to be some kind of idiot to turn down service that good, and I wasn't _any_ kind of idiot. 

But on the other hand, the whole situation was like as not gonna get complicated in ways I couldn't even begin to wrap my brain around. Everything was different now, and I could never switch it back to how it was. I mean, he'd took his fucking _gloves_ off, for fuck's sake! I couldn't handle that. It was making me feel all caged-in-like, trapped in a way I couldn't put into words. And like any animal in a cage, what I wanted most was _out_.

I poured myself a glass of milk and sat at the table and tried to figure what the fuck I was gonna _do_ about it. 

Hilary might know the answer, but this wasn't hardly something I could write my brother about. Even if he knew something was up with me and Amery, I wasn't about to fess up to how deep I'd got myself into it. Some things you just didn't tell your proper-minded fourteen-year-old brother, and moaning some son-of-a's name while you shot your load down his throat was one of 'em. Poor kid would shit himself.

After a while, Jeannot came in. I nodded to him, and he nodded back. He dished himself up a plate of cold turkey, grabbed a couple hard rolls, and went back out again.

I decided I was too tired right now to deal with the whole mess, and picking at it like a scab wasn't gonna be any sort of help. A fuck-up was a fuck-up, and this was a first-class fuck-up if I ever seen one; that's all I knew. The only thing to do was catch a bit of a catnap and hope it put things back into perspective.

I should've headed straight to my room. Like they say, curiosity killed the cat. But the door to the common room was cracked open, and I couldn't help taking a peek to see if something was up.

Inside, Ivory was sitting at his piano. Not doing nothing, just sitting. Not moving a muscle. Somebody'd cleaned him up, but that was the only thing that looked better about him. His eyes were swollen, and his face was this sick looking greenish color. 

"You alright?" I asked.

He didn't act like he heard.

I didn't know if I was right about him and Raphael fucking. Maybe it was just coincidence like Amery'd said. Maybe he was so broke up about Raphael snuffing it because they known each other for a real long time, and flew out together a lot. Maybe he felt like it was his fault in a way, since he'd went out on the raid too and hadn't been able to stop it. And maybe dragging a corpse back over the Cobalts had reminded him of how the same damn thing could happen to him if he let his guard down up there. It could happen to _any_ of us.

I'd saw my fair share of death in Molly though, even when I wasn't the cause of it, and I hadn't _never_ seen a man take it this hard.

"Sorry," I told him, not quite sure why I was saying it.

He frowned, swallowed, and turned his face away.

The whole fucking situation made me want to kick somebody in the teeth.

But there wasn't nobody there besides Ivory, and it wouldn't do no good kicking _him_ , and I was too fucking tired anyway. I sat myself down on the couch and decided to sleep right there and then. 

I was pretty confused when I woke up. Ivory was gone from in front of the piano, and it was lighter in the room that it was when I laid down. I looked around sort of bleary-like to try and get my brain working again, and I finally realized I'd slept the whole damn night there, my head propped against the cushions. I swore and stretched out the mother of all sore necks.

"There you are," someone said from the doorway.

My stomach dropped for a second, but it was only Ghislain. I rubbed at my eyes. "Yeah?" I said, rolling a sore shoulder. "What do you want?"

He looked at me all quiet-like, the way he did a lot, and then said, "Chief Sergeant wants to see you."

I shrugged and got up, following him out the door.

Adamo was at his desk leaning over some paperwork and looking none too happy. I don't think he slept at all last night. He nodded when I came in. "Pull up a chair," he told me. "We need to have a chat."

I did like he said, part of me wanting to tell him that if this was about some prank, it wasn't me that'd done it. But I knew that wasn't it, so I kept my mouth shut. A man didn't concern himself with trivial horseshit like that when one of his number was permanently down for the count.

"As you know, I was planning on sending you out this week," he said, setting down his pencil, "but you can probably guess that ain't gonna be happening now. It's not because I don't think you could handle it. You're a natural in the air, and from how Ghislain made it out, the bigger dragons should be fine, Havemercy included. But you're green as grass, and until this bullshit gets sort out, I ain't risking it."

I nodded, stifling a yawn. 

"You're to keep training like before, and I'll be going out with you myself for some night runs over the Cobalts, but that's it. I don't want no gripes about it-- I just want you to _do_ it. Am I clear?" he asked.

"Clear as day," I told him.

He nodded, and I guess he'd been thinking I was gonna protest, but I wasn't in no hurry to follow in Raphael's footsteps. What he was saying made good sense even if Have wasn't gonna like it. She'd been looking at me kind of funny ever since that day with Amery though, so I wasn't gonna fall all over myself pleasing her picky little self. She could handle it; she was a big girl.

"One other thing," Adamo said. "I told--"

Just then, there was a knock on the door. The Chief Sergeant yelled to come in, and I got this sinking sort of feeling when Amery strode into the room. My chest went all tight like I could barely breathe. He looked at Adamo for a second, then at me, and then at nothing in particular. "You sent for me, sir?" he said.

"Yeah. Have a seat, Amery," Adamo told him.

"Can I go?" I asked, making to get up out of my chair and hightail it the fuck out of there.

"You can shut up and sit down 'til I say otherwise," he snapped.

I settled back down into my seat. "Well, I guess you told _me_ ," I muttered.

He shot me this real irritated look and told Amery, "I was just explaining how he ain't going out quite yet, considering the situation at hand. That means it ain't gonna be an easy ride for any of us from here on out, which I'm guessing you know."

Amery nodded, face real serious. "Of course, sir. The Corps is ready for your orders, whatever they may be."

"What you _don't_ know is just how tight a schedule we'll be running," the Chief Sergeant continued. He didn't say nothing for a minute, just kind of worked his jaw like he was figuring on how to get the next bit out proper. Finally, he came up with, "Ivory's out."

Amery sighed, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head.

"What does that mean?" I said. "What do you mean, _out_?"

"For how long?" Amery asked, ignoring me.

Adamo shook his head. "A week. A month. A year. Not a clue. But I ain't having him back here in the shape he left in. He'll get himself killed in a heartbeat, and another dead man is the last fucking thing I need right now."

Amery nodded, and I felt kind of sick. Sure I'd thought once or twice about knifing Ivory between the ribs good and hard, but this was different. Killing a man was one thing, but making him look the way Ivory had the last time I saw him-- like he'd've rather bought it than go one more minute suffering the way he was-- was a whole level of cruel I wasn't capable of causing.

"So that's why I brought the two of you in here," Adamo said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

He didn't say nothing more, just looked at Amery, then at me, then back at Amery.

"I apologize, Chief Sergeant," Amery said after a minute, all politeness and polished manners, "but I am afraid I do not grasp your meaning."

Adamo sighed and picked up his pencil. He flipped it around a couple times in his thick fingers, looking at it real hard, and set it back down again. I hadn't never seen him fuss with nothing like that before. He wasn't that sort of man. It gave me a real bad feeling. "I ain't one to accuse anybody of anything," he said, "you know that. So when I say this, I don't want you taking me wrong. What my men do with their own private time is none of my business. I don't judge, and I don't have plans on _making_ it my business. But when they do something to jeopardize the workings of the Corps, I got no choice but to step in."

"Understood," said Amery. 

"I lost one man," Adamo continued, "and now I'm down _two_. I don't want to lose two men and be out four. Got it?"

"Of course, sir," Amery answered.

Well, _I_ didn't get a word of it. I looked at Amery for some clue of what was going on, but his face didn't give away nothing. "Yeah, perfect," I told Adamo. "Sounds fucking _swell_. Now you gonna say it in proper Volstovic so the rest of us can comprehend your brilliance, or what?"

"What I'm _saying_ , Rook," he told me, looking annoyed, "is that I'm not stupid. I don't know what you two have going on, and I can't say as I care a lick about finding out. I'm just telling you it's _ending_. Now. That's an order."

I slouched back in my seat and crossed my arms, the hard-ass kid from the streets again, being grilled by the Provost's wolves for selling stolen goods. "Don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Don't get cute with me, kid," he retorted. "You ain't near as sneaky as you think you are."

"Of course, sir," Amery said. "It shall be as you say. Will that be all?"

At first I thought I didn't hear right. 'Cause Amery couldn't've just said what I thought I heard him say, coming clean and grinding the whole thing to a halt all in one breath. He wouldn't play me like that. But the whoreson was standing up and nodding to Adamo, and Adamo was nodding back, and the whole thing was a done deal. 

I was so fucking pissed, I couldn't hardly see straight.

Amery left the room first, and I followed him out, seeing fucking _red,_ 'til we went by the kitchen. When I saw how nobody else was in there, I shoved him through the door. He didn't fall, just caught himself easy-as-you-please and turned to face me, but I wished he had. It made me so mad just looking at the bastard, I just about fucking _decked_ him.

"The _fuck_ was that about?" I demanded.

He sighed. "I knew that you would take it badly."

" _Take it badly_? You're screwing with me, right?" I said. I clenched my fists at my sides to keep 'em still. "Seeing how far you can push before I push back? You're just fucking _trying_ to--"

"I believe I handled the situation as well as possible, given the circum--"

"Yeah, you did a great job. Real fucking skilful," I spat. "Not only did you admit the whole damn thing to Adamo--"

"I did nothing of the sort!" he protested. "You were the one who demanded a full explanation of the charges. I only agreed to not allow our interactions to jeopardize the--"

"Quit fucking _interrupting_ me!" I shouted. My vision narrowed so as it was only him I could see, his handsome face and dark eyes and perfect fucking hair, and I _ached_ to slice him open. "You ain't fucking _listening_!"

"What did you expect me to _say_?" he asked. "Did you expect me to argue with him? With the Chief Sergeant of the Dragon Corps? Over something neither of us acknowledges as even _existing_?"

"I _expected_ you to have some balls and not just fucking agree to whatever horseshit commands he was spewing! It ain't none of his concern, and when some whoreson sticks his nose into _my_ business, I fucking _bloody_ it!" I yelled.

"For what _possible_ purpose would I have done that? He is doing his _job_ , John!" Amery bit out, his face gone red. 

"You know what?" I said. "Don't fucking call me that. I only let people I like call me by my name, and you're so far off that list, you might as not be in fucking _Lapis_."

"Oh, would you _stop_?" he snapped. "You are blowing this entirely out of proportion!"

"Well at least I'm fucking _addressing_ it!" I shot back at him. "If you don't want nothing to do with me no more-- if I ain't up to your fucking prissy _standards_ or whatever-- fine! I don't give a flying fuck! But if you want out, then you can fucking tell me to my _face_! Don't make Adamo do your bastion-damned dirty work for you!"

"Bastion, what is wrong with you? Of _course_ I don't want out!" he insisted, taking hold of my sleeve. "I was only agreeing in order to buy us some time to--" 

"Yeah? Well you know what?" I said, tearing my arm out of his grasp. My chest felt all tight, like there was this weight on it and I was gonna suffocate just from him touching me. I couldn't fucking stand it. Bile rose in my throat, and I had to choke it back down. "I wish I hadn't never fucking _met_ you! I was handling things just fine 'til _you_ paid a fucking visit and turned my whole damn life upside down. Now it's all fucked up, and I fucking _hate_ you! I wish it was you that died instead of Raphael, so I didn't have to _fucking_ deal with your _fucking_ nonsense! You hear me? _I wish you were fucking_ _dead!_ "

It was true, too. Just then, I would've done anything short of killing him myself to never have to look at him again. I couldn't fucking _breathe_ , and I couldn't fucking _think_ , and I couldn't do fucking _anything_ anymore, and all I wanted was for it to stop.

Amery listened to me yelling at him with this look on his face that changed from anger into something like sadness. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, John," he sighed. "You are such a scared little boy."

I didn't even know what to say to that.

So I didn't say nothing; I walked. And when I say _walked_ , I mean _left_ , and I ain't talking about the kitchen. I left the whole fucking place, the fucking _Airman_ , Absent Without Leave, and I didn't even stop to curse at Merritt when I tripped over his boots on the way out the door. With Ivory gone, I was gonna kill the freckle-faced twit first, anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

"So could you possibly explain to me one more time why you're here," Hilary said, "and this time have it make sense?"

I was laying on my back on his bed with my hands behind my head, my feet propped up on his headboard. I couldn't hardly remember what I'd told him, but I sure didn't feel like saying any of it again. I told him so.

He shot me a look and sat himself down at his desk. The chair was turned so as he could cross his arms and keep looking at me like that, all disapproving like it made a speck of difference what he thought. Like me explaining would change things.

Fucking _Amery_.

I closed my eyes.

" _John_ ," he said.

"Don't much feel like talking," I told him.

"Well, if you're just going to sleep, you can go back where you belong before the Chief Sergeant has your hide. I can understand how losing one of your companions could be difficult for you, but you're only getting yourself into trouble by being here," he said.

"I don't care about that fucking cindy _Raphael_ ," I snapped. "And I _ain't_ talking about him."

"Ah. Are you possibly worried for your own safety, then?" he asked. "Has this incident brought to mind some dangers in regards to flying which you had not previously considered?"

"Nope," I said.

Hilary sighed, and I could just picture his little face all screwed up in concern, thinking I was all broke up over some stupid body dying. I wasn't. Raphael didn't mean nothing to me. _I_ wasn't Ivory. 

"Well then," he offered, "why don't we talk about something else?"

"How about _you_ talk," I suggested, "and _I_ listen."

He was quiet for a minute, thinking that one out. Then he said, in this funny voice, "I went back to pay the girls a visit the other day."

I cracked an eyelid. "Ain't you a bit young to be visiting whorehouses?" I asked. I didn't like him going back there. If I wanted him in a place like that, I'd've left him there.

He shrugged, dropping his hands down to toy with the arms of his chair. "I was lonely. It's so quiet around here, I'm not used to it. And honestly, one can only study for so many hours before all of the words blur together and threaten to slide straight off the page. I needed a break before I lost my mind and started speaking in verse, or mathematical abstraction."

"Yeah, when's that test?" I asked. "That prep entry thing. Soon, ain't it?"

"Next week," he said. "So I still have _plenty_ of time to panic. Ilsa's lonely too, you know."

"Oh yeah?" I said, wondering what she had to do with anything. "Ain't she had enough company in to see to her? Last time I checked, they was all but lining up." 

"That is _not_ what I mean, and you know it," he scolded.

"Is that right," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, John. I know you like her. Why don't you take her out sometime?"

"Out of what?" I asked.

"You know, _out_ out. For dinner or something," he explained. "It could be nice."

Just to make sure I heard him right, I said, "Let me get this straight: you want me to take a Mollyrat whore out for dinner someplace nice."

"Come on, John," he urged. "We both know she's always fancied you. Did you truly think she paid me to run errands for _my_ benefit? She nearly cried when I told her you wouldn't be back. Why don't you send her some flowers?"

"Yeah, and a note proclaiming my undying love," I answered. He gave me a nasty look 'cause we both knew Ilsa couldn't read. None of the whores could. Yeah, I was _real_ glad I'd got Hilary out of there.

"It's only a suggestion," he told me. "There's no need to insult anyone. I was just thinking that she'd really enjoy it, and maybe you'd like making her happy. It might cheer you up. That's all."

"You think some fancy food and a bouquet would make her happy? Is that all it takes?" I asked. I yawned and settled into the bed, thinking of Ilsa's smile. "Well, maybe so. Women are like that, I guess. But I ain't interested. I mean, if she's so into me, why didn't she say nothing before? She could've had me any day of the week. Now as she sees I'm moving up in the world, it's okay to spread her legs for me? That ain't right."

"Honestly, you take everything to the crudest possible denominator," he said, looking real put out by my grammar. "You know very well the fits of temper Madam would've had if any of the girls tried giving it out for free, even to you. What did you expect Ilsa to do, pay for it herself?"

"Look, I ain't some kind of meal ticket," I announced. "Ilsa's a real sweet girl, and she's got a real fine ass on her, but if she wanted a taste of what I got to offer, she should've fucking spoke up earlier. I got better prospects now, better things to do with my time."

"Like Amery?" he asked.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I snapped, swinging my legs around and sitting up. If I was tired before, I sure wasn't nomore.

Hilary gave me this look, real upset-like, his eyebrows scrunching up funny. "Are you no longer quite so friendly with him? Is that why you're so distressed?" 

"I ain't _distressed_ , I'm fucking _exhausted_ ," I told him, wishing he'd just shut up. "You got no idea how much work it is, all this training horseshit. You think you got it bad with all your books? Well you ain't got a fucking _clue_."

"You can tell me about him, you know," he said, not buying my explanation for a minute. That was the trouble with people knowing you too well: they always called your bluff. "You really should get it off your chest."

"No, I really _shouldn't_ ," I corrected.

"It's not like anything you could say would shock me," he said. "In fact, I've probably heard it before; I _did_ grow up in a whorehouse. I'm hardly a delicate flower."

I shook my head and got up off his bed. My whole body felt all itchy, and I couldn't stand sitting down for a second longer. "I sure as hell ain't telling you all about something you ain't even supposed to know in the first place," I said. The thing was, part of me really wanted to tell him. But another part-- the one that wasn't feeling backed into a corner with my teeth bared-- reminded me how I shouldn't.

Hilary asked, "Did he break it off with you?"

"Just fucking _stop_ it," I ordered.

"He did, didn't he?" Hilary said, his big eyes wide. "What happened?"

"Look, you can't break off something that ain't there. So no, he didn't _break it off_ ," I told him.

"Just because you don't publically recognize it," Hilary pointed out, "doesn't mean it's not there." 

"Well, it don't mean it _is_ , either," I told him, starting to get pretty fucking annoyed with this whole conversation. 

"Oh, _really_. Then what explanation can you offer for how uncharacteristically you've been acting today?" he asked. "You say you're not upset about Raphael, and I know the two of you weren't close, so I accept that. But turning down the opportunity to bed an attractive woman because you have _better things to do_? This is not my brother."

"Look," I started.

"And," Hilary kept on going, ignoring me, "unless you've managed to employ the worst tailor in all of Thremedon, I'd say you are also wearing his jacket. Though it is lovely. The epaulettes are a nice touch. Amery has _such_ good taste, don't you think?"

I'd forgot all about the fucking jacket, which was stretched out enough now so as it almost fit, but it didn't matter. "Even if what you're saying was true-- and it _ain't_ \-- what am I supposed to do about it? It's a fucking lose-lose situation, being involved in that kind of horseshit. I should've let it go after I got what I wanted out of him in the first place. Don't know why I fucking _didn't_."

He sighed. "Yes you do."

"No, I damn well fucking _don't_!" I insisted. "It was a fucking _mistake_ \-- all I wanted was _Havemercy_!"

"Well there's no use in being angry with _me_ about it," he told me.

"I ain't fucking _angry_!" I snarled.

"Then why are you _yelling_ at me?" he asked.

"I ain't fucking _yelling_!" I yelled. 

He threw me a look. "Well then, your aberrant demeanor is positively confounding in its--"

"Now don't go using big words like _abyrinth_ and _confounding_!" I snapped. "You always gotta talk over my head like a thing ain't worth saying if you can't say it with ten real long words instead of a couple short ones. Well I'm fucking _sick_ of it! You wanna say something, fucking _say_ it, don't beat it with letters like branding a dead horse!"

"Ah," he said, his jaw going tight. I'd hit on his stubborn streak, cracking on his booklearning like that, but I didn't care. "You'd like me to just say it, then? With simple words so that you can understand? Alright, fine. I'll say it."

"Yeah?" I answered. "I wish you would."

He stood up then, and walked over to me. His height wasn't too impressive, and he was still scrawny as a string bean, but he had a set to his jaw that would make a lesser man think twice about screwing with him. He raised his chin and looked me in the eye, his gaze hard like steel. 

"John," he said, "you're a fucking idiot."

I gaped at him. 

"You have been over the moon for this man since the day you met him," he went on, poking a finger at my chest, "and all of this pretending is only serving to make you look like an ignorant _ass_. Get out of my room this _instant_ and go talk to him, because I am sick of you moping about like a whiny little _Cindy_. It's embarrassing."

I had to pick my jaw up off the fucking ground. My brother never talked like that, _ever_ , and 'specially not to _me_. What the fuck was _this_?

He rolled his eyes. "Do you realize you watch him when he eats?"

"I _don't_ ," I corrected, but even as I was saying it, I knew it wasn't true. 'Cause I could picture him doing it. Drinking, too. And throwing me a drunken smile. And then going down on his knees and pulling open my pants and--

"John," said Hilary, "you are possibly the most obvious person ever. Even Balfour noticed, and I've had to answer some particularly awkward questions about sexual positions. Honestly, you should be patting me on the back for my tact and linguistic finesse."

"What do you mean, obvious? It ain't _obvious_ ," I insisted. 

"Maybe it doesn't seem that way to _you_ ," he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was related to such a moron, "but I guarantee that your feelings are plain as the nose on your face to anyone who's given it half a thought. I'm terribly sorry to break it to you, but… are you alright? You look a bit…"

Fuck no, I wasn't fucking _alright_! Not even _fucking_ close! But I couldn't get the words out. My teeth were clenched so tight, I could've cracked 'em in two. I thought I was pissed before, but that wasn't _nothing_.

I must've ran back to the Airman, but I didn't remember it. One second I was storming out of Hilary's room, and the next I was busting through the ugly grey doors, ready and willing to murder anyone that was stupid enough to get in my way. I went straight to Amery's room, prepared to give him a real piece of my mind-- and a piece of my fucking _fist_ , too. But when I twisted the doorknob, it wouldn't budge. I yanked it as hard as I could, but it was fucking locked. 

"Amery!" I shouted, pounding with all my might. He _never_ fucking locked his door, and I was _screaming_ pissed. " _Amery!_ Open your fucking _door_! Open it, you _fuck_!"

But he didn't say nothing. 

The doors in the Airman are made of this reinforced steel to keep the noise out, and the flames if the whole place somehow lit on fire, but if you kicked just right, you could bend the metal where the handle slid in. I didn't know it before, but I found out real quick as my boot hit. The door let out this awful screech, the knob torqued sideways, and a bolt went flying. One more kick, and the thing was open, and I was rushing in to wring Amery's fucking _neck_.

Except he wasn't there.

I swore, kicked a nice big hole in his wall, and hauled ass down the hallway, hollering his name. Heads were popping out of rooms as I went by, but I didn't fucking care. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Amery was gonna get what was fucking coming to him if I had to shove it down his arrogant fucking _throat_.

I found him in the last place I expected him to be: in the common room. He didn't look at me when I came in. He was aiming a dart at the wall.

"Are you, um, going to keep ignoring him, Amery?" Ace asked, fussing with his own dart. "Because he's sort of…"

"You," I told him, jabbing a finger toward his face, "shut your fucking mouth. And _you_ ," I turned to Amery, snarling.

"Maybe you should settle things in private," suggested Ghislain. He was over in the corner with a book in his hand-- a fucking _book_ , of all things!-- surveying the proceedings like some god on high.

"You know what? Fuck _you_!" I shouted, and turned back to Amery.

"Whatever discussion you think it is that we are having is not happening until you calm down," he told me, and let the dart fly. I hadn't never figured how the hell they scored the game without a dartboard or any actual fucking _rules_ to it, but from the smug look on his face, it didn't seem like I was affecting his aim.

Maybe there wasn't no getting any more pissed than what I already was, or maybe he pushed me over some line where livid turns into something else entirely. All I knew was, this eerie kind of still settled over me, like the charge in the air right before a storm rolled in. My whole body buzzed with it, my ears ringing and nerves twanging.

Steady as anything, I stalked over, ripped the dart out of the wall, and threw it at Amery's head. He swore and ducked, and it arched across the room, sinking deep into one of the legs of Ivory's piano.

"Have you no sense of _decency_?" Amery demanded.

"Well, if _that_ ain't a whore calling a mistress loose!" I said.

"You sound like an utter imbecile," he declared. "Now kindly retrieve my dart."

" _You_ sound like a pillow-biting Cindy," I shot back at him. "Go get your _own_ fucking dart!"

"Oh boy, here we go…" muttered Ace. 

Amery looked down his nose at me like he wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole, and as a matter of fact, I was getting his gloves dirty just being in the same fucking _room_ with him. He had 'em back on again, those gloves, along with his uniform, and his hair was combed so neat and pretty, he could've been a portrait in th'Esar's gallery. He sniffed. "I believe that you owe me an apology for that comment."

"That's the problem with fancy assholes like you," I countered. "You're always thinking people owe you something, always acting like you're _better_ than the rest of us."

"If by _better_ , you mean _capable of comporting myself like a human being_ ," he started.

"I bet you think it's real funny, don't you?" I went on, not about to let him finish whatever horseshit he was thinking he was gonna educate me about. "Keep the little Mollyrat out of the loop, don't tell him a fucking thing, haha, joke's on me! Bet you laugh yourself to sleep at night just thinking on it. That why you always lay down alone, won't let any other body share your bed?"

"Rook," Ghislain warned from somewhere behind me, but I didn't pay him no heed.

"Makes you feel real important, keeping shit from people all private-like, don't it? _Extra_ good when it's from the boy you brought back special from the whorehouse," I told him. I felt the anger bubbling up inside me, ready to make me blow my top and go for my knives, but I pushed it back down into my chest. 

"I shall not listen a _moment_ longer to such patent nonsense!" Amery snapped. 

"Yeah, you'll give the kid a _dragon_ if it'll get you out of a bind for breaking some whoreson's shoulder," I snapped back, "but bastion forbid you let him in on the truth! You think I'm scared, but I _ain't_. I just don't sit around all day thinking about my _feelings_ \-- I ain't a Cindy like you!"

Amery was steamed now. His cheeks had went pink, his eyes flashing. "You are out of your skull-- stark _raving_ mad! You shall apologize and leave my presence this _instant_!"

He was trying to get me riled so as I couldn't lay it all out on the table proper-like, but I wasn't having none of it. I was smarter than that. "You knew it from the start, didn't you?" I asked. "And you been holding it over my head this _whole_ fucking time, stringing me along! You could've just fucking said, but you _didn't_. You had to play these stupid fucking _games_ to show how you got all the fucking power and I got none!" 

"No one is playing any games but you! _Grow up_ , John!" he shouted. 

"Then fucking come _clean_! Admit you knew!" I demanded, shaking my fist. "Admit it's _you_ that's the problem, not me!"

"What _problem_ have I been?" he asked. "I have done everything you asked, unquestioning to the point of _servility_ , and what has it brought me? You, screaming your lungs out and making an undignified _scene_ \-- a _mockery_ of my emotions!-- for the entire Corps to witness! And believe me, they _all_ know now, and neither of us will _ever_ live this down!" 

"Only because _you_ forced it!" I told him.

"Forced what? When have I ever forced _anything_ on you? Who was the one saying the whole time that we should stop? Who wanted to unite what we had with the deeper bonds of friendship?" he demanded. "I did my level best to mold it into something long-lasting and meaningful! And you-- you can't even follow through on _making me a sandwich_!"

"You should've been fucking _truthful_ about it! From that first night in Molly, you fucking _knew_! Admit it!" I ordered.

"Admit _what_? Kindly explain to me what this is about with something even remotely _resembling_ logical thought processes, and I will admit to anything you'd like! I have nothing to hide!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms open wide. "Unlike you, _I_ have done nothing wrong!"

Well, that was just the wrong thing to say to me. I could've held back before, but with him playing all holier-than-though like a real Brother of Regina, I fucking _snapped_. "Nothing wrong? What kind of a stupid _fuck_ are you? You think I did it to get on your good side? You think I didn't have no other way of getting a peek at Havemercy? You think that was a fair _fucking_ exchange? Well it wasn't! Mollyrats don't give it away for _free_!"

He ground out, "Which is why I _paid_ you for--"

"Yeah, you're a real gentleman! A regular fucking _saint_ ," I bellowed, "come to the rescue of the poor urchin that's gotta get down on his knees to put food in his brother's mouth! You got all the fucking manners in the world, ain't you?"

"Oh, what _utter_ \--"

"Fucking _perfection_ , that's you! You got perfect looks and perfect grammar and a perfect fucking _cock_ ," I roared, "but you ain't got the _basic fucking_ _courtesy_ to tell me I'm _fucking in love with you_!"

So that was it. I'd laid it all out on the table, tossed in the chips, let the dice roll as they may. I stood there trembling, trying to catch my breath. Now it was his turn.

For a minute, he didn't say nothing. He just stared at me, expression all blank like I been speaking in tongues. Then his face went hard, his shoulders pulled back, and he came at me.

It was about then that I found out what them gloves of his was actually for: hiding real strong hands. I'd knew he had some power in 'em before this, but he'd never turned it on _me_. Now as he had, I understood. He grabbed me by the collar, twisted his wrists, and half-choked me with my own fucking shirt. 

Before I could do a damn thing about it, he was dragging me towards the door. I struggled, clawed at his fingers, and got a glimpse of Ace with his mouth hanging open. But I couldn't get free, and fighting it only made things worse. He pulled me out the door and down the hall, my feet dragging and shoulder smacking against a wall. Then he threw me into his room and slammed the door. 

I bounced off the bed frame and landed in a heap on the ground, bruising a knee and cursing up a storm. My neck hurt like a bitch where the fabric had rubbed it raw.

"Bastion, you are as melodramatic as… _everything_. Honestly, I cannot even complete the simile," Amery said when I'd ran out of filthy words and hoisted myself up onto his bed. He was over at his desk, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over his chair. The look he was giving me was way too calm for somebody that had just about murdered me half a minute ago. "Thank you for flushing my credibility with the other men down the drain. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my knee, too suspicious to be angry anymore. "Your brother knows." But I could still be petty.

"Ah," he said, and set to unbuttoning his shirt. "Good to know. Is that all?"

I thought about it a minute and said, "I think that pretty much covers it."

"Good," he nodded, taking the shirt off. "Then I would like to add that when Adamo found you had left, he ordered me to retrieve you. I, however, quite helpfully reminded him that he had previously disallowed any sort of private relationship between the two of us, and respectfully declined to follow conflicting orders. Thus, both of us are, you might say, on his shit list."

"I been worse places," I said, eyeing his naked back as he folded the shirt and set it all neat and tidy on the desk. His skin was creamy white like porcelain. I wondered why he was changing clothes. Did he need fresh ones after touching me? 

"Indubitably," he said, turning to me and nodding, and I guess that meant he agreed. "I presume, then, that this conversation has been completed to your satisfaction?"

I had to think about what he was asking because his fingers was unbuckling his belt. It was pretty distracting. "No," I finally came out with, "I still want that apology."

"I see," he said, and slid the belt out of his pants in one fluid motion. The polished leather shined in the afternoon light, sort of dazing me. "Then I apologize. For whatever you like, take your pick. I am guilty as charged, I am sure, for which I am terribly sorry."

"You're just saying that to shut me up," I said, shaking my head, 'cause that wasn't how things was supposed to go down. He wasn't supposed to up and give in like he didn't care about being right. "You don't really think there's nothing to apologize _for_ , do you? You think it was just fine not telling me."

He sighed, setting the belt beside his shirt. "If your own sentiments were a mystery even to you until now, which is obvious given your delightful little display, how was _I_ to have known? I didn't. There was no way I _could_ have. Though I did…" he said, biting at his bottom lip, "I did… hope you felt as I did."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. He was stepping out of his pants.

"John," he said, "are we having sex or not?"

_Yeah_ , I decided, grin spreading across my face, _I'd fell for the right one_. 

It was different having clothes on while Amery was the one that was naked, since by now, I was real used to the opposite. But it didn't last long enough to think much about; he took his gloves off to undress me. His hands slid over my shoulders, slipping his jacket off me, and down my front to undo my shirt buttons. When he got to my pants, he went down on his knees and pulled 'em open with his teeth. That got my heart doing crazy things in my chest, and it got me laughing too, having somebody so fancy pulling a hapenny stunt like that.

"Something funny?" he asked, breath puffing against my stomach. 

But then he dipped his tongue into my navel, and laughing was about the last thing I was like to be doing. 

"Lie back," he murmured, and slid my pants down my legs.

I stretched out across the bed, rolling my shoulders to give my neck a good pop so as I could settle into things. _Fuck_ , but I needed this! 

Amery had pulled off my boots and socks and was easing my pants down my ankles. He was crouched like a cat at the end of the bed, one foot on the ground and the other folded up under him so as the heel was just below the curve of his ass. Mighty fine curve, too. His cock stood tall and proud in front of me, but not half so nice as it would be when I got to working with it. My own got pretty excited at the thought.

"Hey. You want my mouth on that?" I asked.

But he shook his head. "Not this time. Just lie back."

Well, I didn't want to "just" do nothing, but I did like he said. Maybe I didn't like putting my trust in other people when it came to these things, and you can hardly blame me after what I been through back in Molly. This was different though, and I knew I'd like whatever he decided on. He was good with his hands and good with his mouth, and basically good with everything else he ever showed me. It wouldn't hurt nothing to let him call the shots every once and a while.

'Course it never hurt to get a jump on the action either, so I slid a couple fingers into my mouth. Amery had got my clothes off and was running his callused hands up my legs. It set me to shivering. I wished he'd fucking hurry.

Instead, he kissed the inside of my knee and ran his mouth up the soft skin of my inner thigh. The thick muscles I'd earned from riding clenched and relaxed with the stroke of his tongue. When his lips got up far enough so that his hair brushed my cock, I moaned around my fingers. I pulled 'em out and they slid across my lip, slick and wet and ready to do their job.

When I brought my hand down between my legs, Amery brushed it away. His mouth opened, and he sucked at my skin, drawing some into his mouth. When he bit down, I gasped and grabbed hold of his hair.

"Look," he murmured, and I did. A red welt was raising on my thigh, indented with stark white marks from the nip of Amery's teeth. My heart skipped a beat.

"Want you inside me," I murmured, something I never imagined coming out of my mouth. With my eyes down toward my lap, I watched my cock jerk at my own words.

He shook his head, taking a shaky breath. "Patience," he said, and sat up. Moving beside me, he pressed my thighs together.

I didn't know what he thought he was gonna accomplish _that_ way. Maybe he could swing both my legs over his shoulder, but I'd like as not fall off the bed the second he got into it. And I wasn't flexible enough for nothing more elaborate than that.

"Don't get all fancy on me now," I told him, my voice coming out as a pant. "Just get to it, alright?"

"Nothing fancy," he promised, and swung a leg over my waist, pressed his backside against my thighs, and slid down into my lap.

He came down with his ass at an odd angle against my cock, and I grunted in surprise. Amery swore and reached back behind his own self to grab onto me. With his other hand, he pressed against my shoulder so as he could lean over me. Rocking his hips up and down, he slid the tip of my cock along the crack of his ass.

If _that_ didn't get me going, then nothing ever had. My heart was thudding against my ribcage, and this real nice tingle started deep down in my gut. Imagine a body like _him_ wanting to slide down onto _me_!

Amery was breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as he rubbed himself along my length, and every so often, he let out this soft little gasp. Between our stomachs, his cock bobbed, hard and thick and slick purple at the tip. I still wished I could get my mouth around it.

I reached up and took hold of it.

Amery moaned loud and grabbed my wrist, and I thought for a second he was gonna lose it right then. But he managed to pull it together, his fingers digging hard into my shoulder and cock going impossibly harder.

By then, I was starting to feel pretty desperate. I didn't know how long he been teasing me-- sometimes coming so close to letting me up in him, it made my vision go dark-- but I couldn't take much more. The cleft of his ass was slippery-slick, and one of these times, ready or not, I was just gonna…

He said something then, but I didn't catch it. I ran my tongue across my lips and said, "What?"

Amery swallowed, the sound of it loud even with the other noises we was making together, and said, "Hands on my hips."

I didn't much want to take my fingers off the nice warm place they'd wrapped themselves around. But I did. He had amazing thighs, the bastard. I scratched my fingernails across 'em on the way up, and I guess he liked it pretty well, 'cause it put him off his rhythm. That frustrated the hell out of _me_ , of course, and this sound like a growl came out the back of my throat.

"Calm down," he told me, and I would've fucking smacked him for it if he hadn't already been reaching back for my cock, to guide it up where I hadn't never bothered dreaming he'd let me stick it.

I'd did it this way with women before, when cleanliness and their particular feminine cycle had called for it. Wasn't something I made a habit of, seeing as how there was plenty of other options. But if women had asses like Amery, I'd fuck 'em like rutting dogs any day of the month. He was so tight and hot, and he rolled his hips just the way I liked. 

"Bastion, that stings," Amery hissed.

"Want to stop for a minute?" I asked, praying he didn't. 'Cause I didn't know if I _could_ stop.

"No," he panted, grimacing, and worked himself down on me even harder. "No, I like it."

That about put me through the fucking _roof_. Like as not would've did me in if I hadn't been too busy feeling stupid. He'd probably wanted me to give it to him raw and rough the whole fucking time, and I was too busy putting on some ignorant Mollyrat show about not being cindy to realize it. The fuck was my problem? How could I have thought I didn't want _this_?

But it wasn't my fault; I had the right idea, I'd just got the particulars wrong. He was meant to be riding me hard, just like he rode his girl. You couldn't blame a new recruit for not knowing the best position to do it in.

And I bet he looked just as pretty riding me as he did on Anastasia. 

"Hey, airman," I said, backing off a little so as I could get it out proper. "Do I ride sweet as your girl?"

"That's not," he gasped, eyes going wide as I hit on something nice. "That's the… wrong question…"

"Yeah?" I said, pulling on his hips to try and hit that spot again. "What's the right one?"

He moaned, eyelids fluttering shut and body shifting like liquid atop me. His fingers skimmed across my stomach. "I'll show you," he whispered.

The next thing I knew, he was pressing my legs down, dipping himself toward the mattress, and pulling me up through his thighs. I don't know how the fuck he managed it, pulling me up over him like that, but I didn't care. He was laid out underneath me with his ankles clasped at my back and fingers digging into my shoulders, all curled up around me like a second skin, or a blanket on a real cold day. 

"Do you see?" he whispered against my temple.

Yeah, I saw: I'd got it backwards. I wasn't Anastasia; _he_ was Have.

I tried a pop of my hips, rocking up into him, and he let loose a gasp just this side of a scream. His hands grasped at my shoulders, and his thighs tightened around my sides. I did it again-- long, smooth slide and then _pop_ just before my hips hit his backside-- and this time, he _did_ scream. The sound was loud and deep and resonated someplace deep inside me.

Oh, I wasn't going to fucking last at _this_ at all. He was too hot, too unearthly beautiful, and too fucking _tight_. Fuck, he was better than screwing a virgin! I didn't care if I ever touched one of _them_ again. And that was fine by me, 'cause what could some brainless girl have on my airman, anyway?

" _Pleeeease_ ," Amery moaned, like he was in agony, like I wasn't already giving it to him hard as I fucking could. He was bringing his own self up to my body every time, too, matching me stroke for stroke.

" _Fuck_ ," I groaned, 'cause there wasn't no more I could fucking _do_. If I didn't have to prop myself up, I'd've reached down and grabbed hold of his cock-- it was smacking against my stomach on the upstroke-- but then I'd've fucking _fell_ on him.

Through gritted teeth, I hissed, "Touch yourself."

Amery gasped, and I could feel how he liked that by the way he clenched around me. I swore, body thrumming with pleasure and pulse pounding in my ears, and found his lips with mine. 

You hadn't never kissed a body 'til you kissed Amery while you was pounding him into the mattress. Felt like being born again-- bastion's own truth. It was hot and sweet like some kind of paradise with his hands in your hair and thighs sliding against your sides, and he wasn't touching himself like I told him, but I didn't care. 

"John," he murmured against my lips, "John, I… _ah!_ "

And then his hands were tugging hard at my hair, his back was arching, and he was so tight around my cock, I fucking _screamed_. He screamed too, wild and loud like a war cry, and then I was lost in the feel of it all, awash with pleasure and the heat of Amery's body and wanting it to never ever _ever_ end.

When it did, we were both shaking, holding each other like we could keep the rest of the world away just by wishing it. Wasn't nobody could do that though, not even us. I swallowed, my throat dry, and watched Amery's face as his breathing slowed and his eyes opened. He moved beneath me, hips shifting and fingers sliding down my arms, and smiled sleepily.

I smiled back and slid down beside him, pressing a thigh between his. He sighed and tucked my hair behind my ear, calluses rough against my cheek as I ran a hand up his middle. My fingers skimmed across the scar on his chest. 

I didn't like that scar. He hadn't never told me how he got it, and maybe that was good. There was some feeling that was twisting inside me just thinking about him getting hurt that bad, and it made me want to upchuck like Ivory. Amery'd accused me of being scared, and I hadn't wanted to think about it. I still didn't.

"I don't want you to die," I said.

"I don't want _you_ to die, either," he told me, his voice thick and deep.

I snorted and shook my head, pressing a kiss against his neck. "No, I mean… the whole Raphael thing. It's fucking screwed up, and maybe it got to me more than I realized at first."

"Understandable," he said, and stroked his fingers through my hair. It felt nice.

I frowned. "But I think… if it had to be one of us that bit it, it should be you."

"Generous of you," he said.

"That ain't what I mean. Did you _see_ Ivory afterwards?" I asked. "He looked like death had ate him and puked him back out again. Sometimes, I think dying's the _easy_ part. And if it comes down to it, I don't want to put you through that sort of horseshit. You don't deserve that."

He hummed his agreement and pressed a kiss against my temple. "Do you understand now the Chief Sergeant's orders?"

"I understand he's a jackass that's gonna have me eating rations that tastes like dogshit for the rest of my natural life," I told him, and he laughed.

"Do not worry yourself over Ivory. He has never been the most watertight ship in the fleet, but I assure you, he shall return in short order," he said. "Cassiopeia pines when he's away, you see."

"Ain't worried about him," I said, pulling myself in closer, my hips meeting his. "Matter of fact, I'll probably knife him when he gets back. Unless I decide to kill Merritt first, anyway. Or maybe Ace. I still ain't made up my mind on the precise order."

He sighed, and it seemed like a good time to shut up. It was nice and warm in his arms, and I didn't have nothing left to say anyway. A bit of sleep was definitely in order.

I didn't have a chance to drift off like I wanted to though. Someone started talking out in the hallway.

"Think they're done this time?" he asked. It sounded like Niall, the little snot.

"Shh! I am _trying_ to listen!" said someone that was probably Jeannot. 

"Amery's really got a set of lungs on him, doesn't he?" asked Merritt.

"By the way," said Ghislain, "you owe me, Luvander. Told you I saw 'em that night in Molly."

"Fuck!" Luvander hissed. "I was hoping you'd forget about that!"

Magoughin chuckled and said, "Ghislain never forgets a blowjob."

Compagnon laughed and said something I didn't catch 'cause I was trying to figure how the bastion bloody fuck I could hear 'em through the door. I knew for a fact Amery'd closed it when we came in. 

But I'd did a real number on the thing kicking it in. One of the hinges had pulled loose, and it was sitting off-kilter in the jamb, the handle cocked sideways. You could probably hear us panting and moaning all up and down the whole entire place. What a fucking mess.

Well, what the fuck did _I_ care, anyway? Things was like they was supposed to be again, and I was gonna be getting some pretty steady action from now on, and that's all that mattered to me. It bothered Amery something special though. I could feel him tensing up, ready to go ballistic on 'em, and I'd be fucked if I was putting up with it. 

"Hey!" I turned my head toward the door and shouted. "You enjoy the concert, you bunch of fucking Cindies?"

Compagnon burst into nervous laughter, and someone swore. The sound of retreating boots echoed through the hallway. 

"Nice diversion," said Ghislain, who I guess hadn't felt the need to leave with the others. "Really boosted morale."

Amery made a disgusted noise and buried his nose in my hair. "What a disaster," he moaned. "They shall all be insufferable for _weeks_. Bastion's sake, did you kick a _hole_ in my wall?"

"I'll kill 'em if you want," I told him, ignoring the last bit.

"Mmm," he said, sighing. "I'll consider it. Though right now, I am too exhausted to consider anything but sleep. And as much as I would like for you to stay, I truly cannot sleep with someone else in my bed. You need to get up."

"You gotta be joking," I said.

"I am not. If you would like the blanket and pillow, you can sleep on the floor," he offered.

"I'll pass," I told him. He was uptight as hell, my airman. It took a real fancy-ass, stuck-up son-of-a to kick your own fucking boyfriend out of bed, and I'd found me one. But I liked him that way, inside and out, so I untwined my sleepy limbs from his and went in search of my clothes. They was by the foot of his bed sort of wadded up, but a couple wrinkles wasn't gonna kill nobody, 'specially me. I wiped myself clean with his underwear. The spot where he bit me was red and sore, but not bleeding or nothing. I sort of wished it was.

"Think I should go and throw myself at the Chief Sergeant's mercy?" I asked, only half joking.

"Leave him alone; perhaps he'll forget to punish you. He has a lot on his mind. Replacing Raphael won't be easy at this particular moment, you know," he told me.

"Yeah?" I said, buttoning my pants. "How's that?"

"Well, we've seen the best of the recruits come and go with Havemercy's introduction, many of them unwilling or unable to continue after the experience," he explained, voice a little groggy but pretty damn reasonable for somebody that I'd just had screaming his brains out. I wondered if this was how my brother would be after sex-- with perfect grammar and manners and the like-- and then wished right away I hadn't. Too fucking weird. "Natalia will not be quite so… forceful in her rejections, but she _is_ used to a highly-educated, entirely competent, if overly poetic, companion. I suspect she shall be displeased with anything less."

I shrugged, looking Amery up and down as he wedged his pillow under his head. His cock was laying soft against his stomach looking all forlorn and useless, but that was alright. I didn't care. I could fix that any time I wanted. "Yeah, I'm sure Adamo'll have his panties in a bunch over it, but that's his problem. If it keeps him from eating us alive, so much the better."

"Perhaps… though I may have an idea," he mused. "Something that could get us both out of the greater share of the trouble we've gotten ourselves into today. Hmm… yes, I could definitely see that working on a number of levels. But you will not like it."

"Try me," I told him.

"Well," he said, fussing with the edge of his blanket with those amazing hands of his, "I have a particular skill at matching riders with dragons, as you know from personal experience. And as it so happens, I know the perfect match for Natalia."

"Oh yeah?" I said. "Who?"

*** TEN YEARS LATER ***

"Hey, Hilary," I called, holding up the catalogue so as I didn't have to move from my place on the couch, "what do you think of these?"

He was concentrating and didn't look up, his head dipped toward the keys. The butter-soft black gloves Balfour had gave him sat on top of the piano beside a stack of sheet music. "A moment, John," he said, and tried the melody again. 

"Sounds like shit," I told him.

He sighed. "Why _thank you_ for the vote of confidence. Wherever would I be without your brotherly support?"

"At the 'Versity squinting over a roman?" I offered.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he said, waving the suggestion away. The movement upset his hair, and he had to push it back behind his shoulder before he could get back to playing. I'd kept my hair short-- Amery had a real thing for me looking like I just stepped off Hapenny Lane-- but Hilary'd grew his out. I told him it looked stupid, 'specially the way he braided it like some kind of Ke-Han warlord, but once the kid got one of these crazy ideas in his head, you couldn't talk him out of it. He even pierced his fucking ears and had these big gold hoops in 'em. 

Fucking madman, my brother. I couldn't've loved him more.

"I'm not hearing a lot of playing," said a voice from the door.

I did my best not to groan and almost managed it. Hilary shot me a look. "If you were, I'm afraid your ears might be bleeding," he answered.

"Hey, Ivory," I said waving the catalogue at him. "How do you like these?"

Ivory gave me a glare like death itself and stalked past, sitting himself down next to Hilary at the piano. "Now if you recall what I told you _last_ time--"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, letting the paper fall onto my chest and showing my teeth in a way that couldn't be confused with smiling. "Is my being here giving you a _migraine_?"

" _John!_ " Hilary hissed.

"It is a _medical condition_!" Ivory snapped.

I laughed, 'cause a day I couldn't poke a little fun at Ivory was a day that wasn't worth getting up for. 

When he came back from his little break after the whole Raphael thing, Ivory had this big glass container of medicine the doctors had gave him. Migraines, he said. He had 'em since he was little, these real awful headaches, but he was fine now as the doctors had fixed him up, ready to get back in the air. Nobody said nothing about it, and that was that.

But this one morning after me and Amery had went out on the town, I was feeling real poor, my brain pounding fit to bust right out of my skull, so I tried a few of those pills of his. Figured they might help, and no harm done if they didn't. The handlers found me that afternoon drooling on myself in Have's stall, with her pitching a real fit, poor girl. I couldn't tell 'em how or why I ended up there, but I didn't much care-- everything was real nice and hazy, with this calm white glow to it like a warm spring morning. I never did figure what them pills was for, but it sure as shit wasn't migraines. 

"Remember," Ivory was telling my brother, "don't jab at the keys like you're prodding an animal. Let your body move with the music the way it does when you ride Natalia. Caress the keys as though…"

"Hello," said Amery from the doorway. "What are they playing?"

It was a good thing he'd came in just then 'cause Hilary was gonna be real upset with what I was about to say about caressing Ivory's keys. "No idea. I want these," I said, and held up the catalogue for him.

"What, those great ugly knives? Oh no, absolutely not," he answered.

"Hey, whose fucking _birthday_ is it, anyway?" I asked.

"John, you have a dozen knives already. You hardly need more unless you plan to grow extra hands," he told me.

I shrugged, thought about it for a second, and graced him with a leer. "Bet you wouldn't complain if I did, all the nice things you could find for me to do with 'em."

"Well, when you state your case with such… finesse…" Amery said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah?" I said, reaching over the back of the couch to grab his belt. "Howsabout the both of us go back to my room right now, and I finesse your--"

"Honestly, do you two _mind_?" Hilary asked. He was scribbling something out on his sheet music. Ivory's hand was on his back.

I didn't know what was up with the two of them, but whatever it was, I didn't fucking like it. From the very beginning, Ivory was always way too interested in "guiding" my brother, taking him under his wing like he was some sort of junior replacement for his precious Raphael. They signed up for shifts together-- and consecutive shower slots-- way too often. I asked Hilary point-blank once if they were fucking, and he went all offended.

"I know you don't like Ivory, John, but he really has a very sensitive soul," he told me. "I wish you wouldn't think so badly of him. His life has not been the easiest, and he deserves some amount of respect, even from you."

Didn't seem like any sort of an answer to me, but that's my brother for you.

Amery pried my fingers off his belt and walked around to the front of the couch. When I didn't move my feet to make room for him, he picked 'em up and set my legs across his lap.

He sat there frowning for a minute, and I could see how he wanted me to notice. He was too fancy to say nothing about things that upset him unless I coaxed it out of him. "What's up?" I said.

"Have you heard about the issue with Arlemagne?" he asked, rubbing a thumb over my knee and looking real put-out.

"What, the fuck-up with the little Cindy?" I said. "Yeah, Jeannot told me."

He sighed. "I wish you would not call him that, John. He is a perfectly respectable man who just happens to have horrible taste in romantic partners. Do you not understand what it is to be exiled? You came close to finding out first-hand with that diplomat's wife."

"Did _fucking_ not!" I protested. "I thought she was a whore, and you know Ilsa's the only one I pay for horseshit like that. Anyway, sweet little Royston'll be right at home holed up at the ass end of Nevers and Nowheres."

"Could you _be_ any more offensive?" Hilary wondered. "Hit him for me, would you, Amery?"

" _Please_ ," said Ivory, glaring over his shoulder at me.

I was about to give sensitive-soul Ivory a demonstration of just what "offensive" was when Amery picked up my catalogue. "Hideous," he said, looking down at the knives I was seeing my way toward getting. "If you absolutely must have a knife, could you not do with something marginally more appealing? With a bit of, say, decoration on the handle?"

"Don't need decorations on it," I told him. "That ain't the point of a knife."

"Yes, yes," he agreed. "But if, perhaps, I were already having you one specially made…"

"Fuck!" I said, and ripped the catalogue out of his hands and hit him with it, grinning from ear to ear. I should've _knew_ he was up to something!

He laughed, batting the paper away. "I _thought_ you would say that. Though if you dislike the look of it, blame Havemercy. She was the one who suggested the inscription."

"What inscription?" I asked.

Amery shrugged. "You shall have to wait and see. My lips are sealed."

"It's _lovely_ ," added Hilary.

Ivory snorted in disgust, so I figured my brother was right.

"Yeah? So spill it, Hilary," I ordered.

"Not a chance," he told me. "And don't bother trying to get it out of Have either. We had her promise to maim you if you asked. It didn't take much convincing, actually. Removing your entrails seems quite appealing to her as far as leisure activities go. She said it would be her pleasure. Though she may have been bluffing. So hard to tell with her."

"Traitor," I said. "All of you, fucking traitors…"

Amery hit me on the head with my catalogue.

I snorted and decided to take a nap. Amery and me was on duty tonight, but we had tomorrow morning off, and if I played my cards right, I could get me a trip to Our Lady out of the deal. Amery wouldn't like what I had planned for us at first-- I'd like as not get another lecture about the benefits of "monogamy," whatever the fuck _that_ was-- but in the end, the chips always fell in my favor. After all, most men wasn't lucky enough to have even one thing they lived for, and me, I had four right at my fingertips: my brother, my girl, Amery, and free whores.

Not bad for a foul-mouthed Mollyrat orphan from Hapenny Lane. Not bad at all…

END

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally written in 2010 and posted on LiveJournal.


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